Mood:
blueTopic: ""Soft Memories" (7)
There was a time when four friends strolled down the street named Bourbon in the city called Orleans, and in a sudden uncontrolled burst one began to shuffle and jive. He was damn good. Elbows moved consonant with knees, and feet flew in a montage of steps and slides that included Gene Kelly, Elvis Presley, and Michael Jackson. A crowd formed all about, and Frodo swore that people laughed and pitched money in appreciation. He was so damn good.
This day, the same four gather together but the street and the city are far different, and oh so far away. A heart is giving out, and even the memories of those so carefree are threatened by the melding of electrical impulses into soft tissue. Unfair it is, especially when there is so much to remember, especially because so much was so very damn good.
The four first gathered in an early model Mustang, Frodo and Sam in the back-seat, at a drive-in movie. Frodo was being introduced into the group as the final member of the foursome. It was awkward, for the Hobbit had needs, hormonal needs, and he didn't know how to behave. Those in the front seat, Frodo learned later, were even more bereft, due to the fact that to actually sit and watch a drive-in movie was not something they had previously exxperienced, particularly with noises in the back seat. Everything ever they had done together was just so, so, well, damn good, and gay.
Hearts are broken in Poker and in love, but it just seems wrong for one to just give out. Surrendering a full life doesn't correlate with the soft memories of friendship and the laughter of youth. Surely the three who remain are not the only ones who recall the dancing fool? There are probably many who recall the nights when all hearts were young and gay, and dancing was something that just happened out there on the street because he was so damn good.
