There will be no sleeping tonight.

All I can think about are stoplights changing with no cars. I am using that ridiculous non-specific rock dance to let out a coil of some passion or another without coming off as spastic and it doesn't work but does it ever? I try to talk as much as I can because you don't know what pulling our heads close and laughing in each others' ringing half-deafened ears did to me.

The microphone slips and I know this is it, my little charade of talent was over so I beat-box a little, pretend to be just chock-full of wit and charm like I did with that damned stick joke (that isn't even mine) and I sing one more verse with a voice like a chihuahua, bending like a contortionist to reach the microphone in time. It is probably an ego-check; this is not my show, I am the open-mic stall queen until the real crowd gets off of work.

I feel 'Stairway to Heaven' through the floor and I close my eyes and sway because I feel for a split second that I am at Woodstock Lite or something.

I love that I cannot hear we cannot hear but especially that you cannot hear so I make sure to say 'I love you' a few times and the room trembles with this freakish outpouring of something strange and I think you know so you let it happen, you let our heads come close again and again, the closest we've ever been but you don't understand that I never forgot what you did what you wanted and what I said.

I meant, "Yes."