The music pounds away
And people gather round
Listening for the songs
Which they want to be played

They flock to the dance floor
And gather in hordes of bodies
Smashed together
Touching, pressing up against one another

Dancing turns to liveliness
Liveliness turns to craziness
Craziness turns to heat
Heat turns them on

They become creatures
Weaving and spinning
Amongst the others
A tangled mass of arms and legs

Would you so dare insert yourself
Into such a crowd?
Or stay on the outer rim
And merely observe?

The proctors only watch
Their brood in such a state
And sigh heavily
“Kids will be kids”

The last song is declared
And they all separate
Into groups of two
And start to sway

Among the notes
Some kisses are shared
Hugs are received
And goodbyes are made

Then the lights turn on
Their fun is done
Now it is time to go home
With tired feet and low adrenaline

At last…