People nothing but people
on either side of the room and mainly clustered round
speakers in cacophonous flocks.
Dull eyes hide behind shadows and shades and blue-red
glasses of wine as they waste tobacco on false lashes and
Bits of burnt rizla flake and fall
onto the Persian rug and
I retreat into Johnny’s kitchen
shovelling dips, counting stacks of cheese.
A shield from boys with peach fuzz chests and girls
with nipples that perk and point through ironed hair.
Who is the self-satisfied blonde? I ask, feigning disgust
his knit-wear is only out-woolled by yellow curls
that bounce around his ears and then
he looks at me with chough black eyes
I am funnelled into
his line of sight.
I feel my clothes fall apart around my feet
in nudity we meet, dancing in marsh mellow snow
that we catch between our teeth
he kisses Johnny on the lips
and strokes his thigh, a pewter gleam dots his eye
run outside to strike a match