Tonight's Poet Corner: Endless Club Night
Endless Club Night by Belinda Roddie The synthesizers make it clear, and so do the guitar chords: She wants to dance, and so I am resigned to follow her choreography for the night. How many times has she heard this song? Or was she sneaky and wrote it herself, like a musical ninja throwing notes like morning stars at the microphones wired up in a recording studio far away? I've never known her as a compose, yet she remains, as always, composed: Ready to sway, ready to slide, ready to find equilibrium between each toe of each foot, the heels of her shoes sliding toward the void. And I am there with her, among the synthesizers and the guitar chords - and somewhere, a drum beats a rhythm that doesn't match my own. And for the first time since I met her, I am afraid.