Fred and Ginger footloose, fancy
Touch light, then spin
Counterclockwise, heads-up
Heads-down, flap flap coo
Flap flap coo
Parking lot dancers, best of friends

They stop their dance
Take a break, Fred spies some
French fries, tells Ginger
“Let’s eat!”
They munch, they waddle, they giggle
The dimpled asphalt under their toes

They are under surveillance
Dark eyes are watching
From inside a shiny black van.
“Which one do we grab boss?”
Asks one feathered thug.
“Take the dame.”

The dancers surrounded, startled
Bird against bird, screams and caws
It’s too late
Side door slams open
Ginger tossed inside
Fred lay on the ground
In pain, in pain, in pain!
She’s gone, she’s done, she’s gone.