Front Row Center

Block Poem about the excitement of being a fan at a concert

Elbows and shoulders crush and batter me, pushing me into the bar, shoes stomp my sore feet. The lights go down, the relentless roar goes up to a deafening intensity. Time stands still until the moment the lights return, shrieks ring out through my ears and I cannot even hear the screams launching from my own throat. He emerges onto stage imitating my own excitement, feeding off of it, fueling mine even more. Only meters away, I am the one he sees, not the thousands behind me. They are just an undulating blur lining the luminous night sky. I am the girl with the anxious face, representing his own at one time when he was in the same place as me; the adrenaline has us higher than any other drug could ever reach and our exhaustion is slashed out of existence. A spear shoots throughout my body, making every hair stand on end as my gaze is detected and met by his own. He parades his way back to me, I heave my hand up and am met with his gracious fingers.