Steppin' Away From Our Spaces
.....or when collaboration paid dividends. This is what diversity means.....this dreamy piece by Robert Plant of Led Zepplin and Country virtuoso Allison Krauss just flicks on the projector in my mind.
And it goes something like;
Two dusty windblown travelers with no plan, wheel in to a pock marked parking lot off Rte. 66, shutting down the 348 of his '60 Impala convertible, stopping at a beat up rusty bar on impulse. It couldn't be more cliche with the cactus bordering the building, a sun blistered neon sign beckoning weary travelers and sand hills towering to the rear of this weather worn edifice. Walking in out of the bright light of a Summer sun in to the dark confines of a smoky room, they espy the usual small band of regulars scattered about the room. Saying little, they wander over to the bar where he motions with his fingers......."two tequilas." Nothing else is verbally exchanged, but he and baby look at each other and knock them back. He taps softly again on the bar......wash/repeat.
She gets up......and as she does, he swivels on his bar stool and watches as his gorgeous companion with such a fine ass dumps quarters in to the juke box. She turns around and looks across the floor at him as the sound of the change falls in to the slot....the music begins to play, but not before she advances and meets him out on the dilapidated ancient tile dance floor. Clasping hands, and interlocking fingers....they weld to each other, embracing and lost in themselves as if no one else was in the room, they held each other close and swayed to a smoky song......
[media=https://youtu.be/JAL1fSBmpRA]
And it goes something like;
Two dusty windblown travelers with no plan, wheel in to a pock marked parking lot off Rte. 66, shutting down the 348 of his '60 Impala convertible, stopping at a beat up rusty bar on impulse. It couldn't be more cliche with the cactus bordering the building, a sun blistered neon sign beckoning weary travelers and sand hills towering to the rear of this weather worn edifice. Walking in out of the bright light of a Summer sun in to the dark confines of a smoky room, they espy the usual small band of regulars scattered about the room. Saying little, they wander over to the bar where he motions with his fingers......."two tequilas." Nothing else is verbally exchanged, but he and baby look at each other and knock them back. He taps softly again on the bar......wash/repeat.
She gets up......and as she does, he swivels on his bar stool and watches as his gorgeous companion with such a fine ass dumps quarters in to the juke box. She turns around and looks across the floor at him as the sound of the change falls in to the slot....the music begins to play, but not before she advances and meets him out on the dilapidated ancient tile dance floor. Clasping hands, and interlocking fingers....they weld to each other, embracing and lost in themselves as if no one else was in the room, they held each other close and swayed to a smoky song......
[media=https://youtu.be/JAL1fSBmpRA]
