22. Social Phobia At The Jail House Rock Poem by Not Long Left

A fake tanned Tina Turner
screams from the top of
the stage. Blonde wig
bobbles enjoying the humour
of it all. Punters are laughing
inbetween mouthfulls of
charred steak, and aneroxic chips.

I struggle to swallow it all.
Sammy Davies Junior
Looks at me from the wall
his stiff strained smile
mirrors my own.
Opposite me she giggles
like a newly drunk teenager.
Offering the man beside
her a choice of a slippery
nipple or sex on the beach.
I crave her carefree ways
I crave her taste for the easy.

White wine swirls in soapy
looking whirpools inside my
lipstick stained glass.
Ah to meet them lips elsewhere.
If there was a way
I would go there
I do so miss the ability to laugh.