Wednesday 1 June 2011

Happy Hour

She spied him across the crowded bar
And speared him with a shrill peroxide wail.
'Tonyyy!! Daarrrrling!! It's been ages, why didn't you call!?'

'I did,' he lied, 'But you were never in.'

She nodded wisely.
'Well I'm a busy girl you know!'
And waggled hips that knew the move.

He swallowed.
She advanced, shark eyed, lips poised.

Elbow in the ribs.
'Chris, mate, drink up, we're leaving'
A shrug, a smile, an escape.
She pouted as he passed, talons raised to grasp.

Outside he breathed again.
Drink can make you do terrible things.

And they never remembered your name.

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