Put on my finest western shirt, black with red roses on the lapel, and complete with silver collar tips. That reminds me: dollars will be necessary to spark that initial conversation which will, I hope, be rearranged from superficialinto deeply dynamic. I'll win her over!Loud thumps of bass from the turgid dance soundsthat surround the place, with barely enough space to walklet alone arrange a lasting connection. Five hundred dollars later there's nothing to show, it's all been blown on too-short dances arranged as chances to show her I was special. I note to myself what a spectacular disaster that was! Home, back in bed, bled dry of my desire to try again I'll just drift to dream and hope that there, somewhere between the hours of now and wakinglonely will mist away before I face the new daythat will come far too quickly.