“The Last Gig” by Jerry Julius

 

There were blue lights, smoke,

a disco ball and liquor:

you know, BYOB,

a little white lightning.

 

There were sweet potatoes,

greens, ham hocks, all via potluck,

yes, even some pot.

 

The women were hot and juicy.

The sound was unimaginable

cause it was all improvised!

How could it have been otherwise?

 

My limbs were stiff, but anticipated

some dream-like dancing

at the disco the size of a box

laid end-to-end in six feet in Mother Earth.

 

The cats shoveled in the dirt

to an old work song,

one of those tunes they could not forget,

cause it added days and hours and strength

 

until it was their time to dance.