A Northern Night Out Poem by Steven Cooke

A voice in the mirror,
God your good looking
The gladiators chin
And the eyes of Perseus
Captured in the energy of youth
This night belongs to him

But love has many players
Its Intoxication is addictive
Saturday night on the town
Wildlife on display

From the liar bird to the labra doodle,
To the lion and the jackals
Each eyeing the herds of Wilder beasts,

Displaying their courtship rituals
Dancing round the sacred handbags.
Ready to stampede at
The sound of last orders please

Glances across the dance floor
The weak and easy, singled out
The outcome uncertain, the winner
Destined for passion, or maybe more

The loser, to sit alone on the bus home,
That miserable face in the window
That passes by as you cross the road.
Consolation found in a cold kebab
And just one last thought,
As you burp, before that lager sleep
Mirror, mirror on the wall
You tell lies.