She comes back and she pauses. Kaye waits and then begins to pick. The hall is awash, people are everywhere, in every state. Every god is admonished and hailed. Every man and woman is equal.
Every woman is man, every man is woman.
And what is left is the memory of a smile and those eyes, and the feedback from Kaye's guitar propped against an amp. And we walk a mile, not knowing, lost in the excited babble from every lip that passes, that has been and seen. No, the smiles will never go away. And we will always dance barefoot.