Night Moves

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I was a little too tall / Could’ve used a few pounds / Tight pants points hardly renown  / She was a black haired beauty with big dark eyes  / And points all her own sitting way up high  / Way up firm and high. Well the Night Moves began in the tub. Yasgur’s harvest tales, Sabbatico’s bad voodoo (slight return), the Snipper’s limit-busting, submarine advances, Zulu’s incredulous responses, and push-pull propaganda from the RGL polling group. Oh yeah, and there were plenty of beauties with their points sitting way up firm and high. After a long look at harvest house pics and a block walk for context, we rode out past the cornfields where the woods got heavy. It was on the Holman bike boulevard that we started workin’ on mysteries without any clues. Did Chris Dudley do wrong? It’s what I heard. It certainly hasn’t reached the front page drive-in news. Would it change the way you vote? Dudley said just last week, that he would never leave a Chad hanging. The real question, I guess is whether he wasjust young and restless and bored / Living by the sword. I’m pretty sure he used him and he used he. Neither one cared. They were getting their share. So, we arrived at the Vendetta and took a place outside and waited on the thunder. Waited on the thunder! ….. and the table to be free. Some clam fisherman and his insurance adjuster friend were slowly humming a song for 1962. It was a long song, but finally the table was free. The Old Guard played like they were trying to lose the awkward teenage blues and lost to the deft touch of Zulu and Yasgur. They simply didn’t have as much to lose. Strange how the night moves. With autumn closing in, the late-niters took a pint at Tiga and I rolled south, picking up a bus lift to get under the midnight curtain.