Beat

the groovers and the shakers
drive dusty convertibles,
miss exit after exit.
they travel instead,
godspeeding through the night,
mocking motel vacancies
mocking the resting
grooving and shaking all the while.

the groovers and the shakers belong
near an eight track library
near a smoky bar’s DJ
near their partners’ twisting hips.
the groovers and the shakers move
behind the wheels of their dusty convertibles,
steering with knees,
clapping with hands.

music the magic
heartline the highway
arteries amplify blood-steeped basslines.
the sun reclaims the moon’s former reign
and turns the volume down.
the groovers and the shakers wait, bated,
til dusk permits.

and when the reds oranges pinks purples blues
relinquish their Kodak moments to the stars,
relinquish their light to the black,
the groovers and the shakers open their eyes,
unpack tambourines,
don headbands,
and lace boots,
grooving and shaking all the while.