Trolling at the Jersey Shore

As disco stool ghouls

We awaited Mr. Right

At Jersey Shore bars

And listened to live bands

As our chests vibrated

From the sound

Of Morrison and Joel covers

Blaring from large speakers

On the dance floor.

At the Ship Wheel Inn

We got free drinks

So I poisoned my palate

With cheap vodka

And watered-down orange juice

To blur my expectations.

Only when the lights came on

At the transformed Inn

At 2 AM did we notice

The grime and

Stale smell

Of beer-soaked dirty rugs,

But we were young

And didn’t need dim lighting

To fuel the interest

Of males in the rut.

Afterwards, the drive

To OB diner in Point Pleasant

Was an erratic jaunt

To caloric sobriety

As we assessed the looks

The dance moves

The lines

And the availability of men

Who claimed they weren’t married.

Radar improved each Friday night

As we approached 30

And found ourselves alone.

Despite the hustle

We sought perspired bodies

To be next to

Eyes to meet

And golden idols

Falling from barstools

To catch.