An Evening In
‘Put on some Johnnie Ray,’ she said, and ran
her tongue along her lipstick. Ten past ten:
she felt like fun. The sparkling white wine grew
warm in her glass; and there, her fingerprints.
‘Just Walking in the Rain,’ she said, and lit
one more last cigarette. Candles can make
things romantic, can’t they? The shadows move.
Maybe she should close the curtains, stop folk
staring in. And why do those streetlamps have
haloes? Oh, God, she’s in love, and has been
for years — the endless romance of it all!
She drinks more wine; surveys the room’s expanse.
The teddy bears get ready for the dance.