The Quietest Disco in Brooklyn
The idea of a silent dance party never
bothered you; each human, their own private
moment amidst a sea of Brooklyn
bountiful with volume. Who doesn’t ache
for a slice of quiet in the noisy sugar of us?
Pocket of still amidst the looney & clatter? That is
until tonight. You are star-fished, stretching
in the scratchy lawn of August when they
rise around you like wildflowers stepping out
from wallpaper. Each swaying in gentle
zombie-step, then windsock air-slapping
& suddenly—their own fenced-in Phish
concert. And you hate to say it but of course
they are White. Not in the easy offbeat
to the music way but how in the way we are
there, but not. Instead of join us, watch us. Uniform
polite & smiling while we coconut water the price
of everything & strap on headphones to block
out the collision of weed smoke & bbq & Beyoncé
crunching from a tinny backpack speaker
in the grass & laughter & curling kite-tale flight
paths of children slicing through a field
of waking fireflies. Their tiny hands
sporked into the quickening dark.
***
Author photograph courtesy of Adam Falkner
