after dark the lights are so soothing, round brights so round bones wants to capture them between his palms and press them into his chest, everything all right for a couple of jagged instants; the glue holds and he is fragile with the wurlitzer band imprinting on his dum da dum dee dee da dum long after closedown, haunts the next morning like the shadows under his eyes, ghost-darks facing blanks of day

he suits up again, submerging, counting fingers and toes inside rubber, taking stock and taking breaths OK! he lifts his left leg, lifts his left, lifts but the boss yells move faster and he can feel the lights whirl until they are one seismic shriek, until he wants to punch the bastard in the face, wants to skin him and hang his hairy chest from the flip n’ dip but he’s cracking cracking so he goes inside

the warm dark plywood where teenagers give each other blowjobs he stands and watches haunted, growing hard inside his suit in an unholy hard way remembering those days he thinks a lot about the lights here, glittering, unreachable somethings to hold on to, tomorrows and todays