Office Beat

The lights have dimmed.  The smoke has cleared.  The exhilaration has subsided.  Everything has changed.  The dance floor has changed into an office floor.  The DJ spinning records has turned into a supervisor spinning files.  The crews and their members have transformed into teams filled with coworkers.  The phone rings off the hook instead of dancers finding the next beat.  The spotlights that illuminated the dancers movements are now just fluorescent lights blanketing an army of cubicles. 

Unexpectedly, his foot starts to tap.  He hears everything from the pencils sharpening, the printers printing, the computer mice clicking, and the desk chairs creaking.  A fluorescent light above him starts to flicker and buzz.  He glides his feet sliding his chair to the end of his desk, and with a kick to slide back he grabs the next file to process.  He moves his fingers on the keyboard to the rhythm of the office beat.  His foot keeps tapping, and his head starts bobbing.  A coworker behind him provides the breakdown by sending the fax machine on a digital hunt.  His typing slows to the musical tones of the information transmission.  The fax is successful!  A copy machine brings the beat back by scanning a flurry of papers. 

The rhythm of the office beat wets his appetite for his return.  He may have left the ecstasy of the nightlife, but it has followed him like a shadow.  The music and dancing have consumed his mind and soul, and will not relinquish their grasp to a mundane lifestyle filled with computer screens and manila folders. 

He leaves the office for the day.  His shadow follows him out the door, and the beat follows.  The record changes, and the traffic beat begins.  His head just keeps on bobbing.