recovery beat

Downtown in the inner city I lean on a building and smile as she walks up to me.
The good kind of walk.
I'm smiling. I'm taking a break.
"How's life?" She asks.
The air is cool now and there is a wind that seems to have picked up stronger from the river behind us and its colder because all I have is a collared shirt, no coat.
"On pause," I say. "Lets go."
"Where?"
"Any where."
I smile, I've been here before, this life. Life on pause, that's the good life.
I need recovery.
The city lights sparkle on the black water of the river and I look to one of the bridges.
"We can't cross it now," She tells me. "Not in these heels." She looks down.
I look down, take her in with my eyes, smile.
"Buena." I say.
The skyscrapers of the cityscape shine in brilliance, beacons on what's on the other side of the river.
"I don't know if I've ever been over there before," I say.
"We can't go now. Not in these heels."
And I look to my right.
A band plays from the club around the corner, stringing strings and tapping a soft melody. Soft and happy. Then their beat picks up. We head there, to the club, arm in arm. Life on pause for the night, for a lot of people.
The club has an electric red sign, with some colorful symbols around it, and it reads "Good Times." The bridges over the river get darker as we get closer to the light and the symbols get brighter and hurt my eyes to look at, so I look ahead.
We see through the club window. There's dancing. Smiling. Soft lights, to make the atmosphere comfortable. A man hands another a drink. They hold their glasses up and toast.
"To the good life."
The music picks up as we walk through the doors.
More electric, no longer soft. Faster.
The sound is carried across the river, past the bridge and to the other side.
"Couldn't figure it out, and that ain't right, found in the colorful drought, in the middle of the cool night, too little of a sight to see." The band sings.