This one was praised to be the dancer

That danced the dance

That was choreographed 

By the producer of the grande ballet.

And that one danced the night away,

In Paris, at the discotheque.

His mind was a wreck

From gin and tonics,

And just as his head quit the ache,

And he searched for something 

Else to take for his malady,

The muse appeared in the mirror 

Of his medicine cabinet.

She smiled and winked,

And perched upon his sink in there,

And wrapped her legs around his waist

And gave him a taste of her lipstick,

And kissed him deep,

And he heard music playing.

He hurried to scrawl the notes and rhythms 

Of just the way he heard the percussion

Answer the baritones,

And the sleepy, sensuous way

Their argument awoke the flute.

And this is the song that will make the people move!

The dancers will dance on the stage,

And the audience will squirm

Uncomfortably in their seats at the matinee,

Wanting to beat the traffic

And get home, to make love

In the heat of the muse, 

The heat of the afternoon.

-jenn