Twitches to the Techno

I attend a gallery reception in gritty Highland Park

night cyclists

Aztec and Black warm-skinned art

Forty or so sinewy night cyclists flash mob the buffet,

cast-off military uniforms

mixing with detached bearded gazers.

Cyclists have a side car sound system blaring techno.

I bite into a fresh fresh fresh slice of succulent melon,

little pinky appropriately aloft.

Pinky twitches to the techno and I am happy.