The wine is left on tables groaning with the weight
And Colin slugs the dregs of Chardonnay
While Lisa photocopies, industriously,
Boobs and bums, sniggering as sheets pour out,
A laser stripe illuminates the room.
And then there’s Carole singing songs
On the karaoke box, brought by someone in good faith
That it is fun and wouldn’t cause a scene.
But Charles and Millie barely notice from the dark
Corners of the office block, where they kiss
And grope and do unmentionables
While grown men cry into their beers
And wish they’d made a better choice in life
So this tragic night’s not burnt into their memories.
In another life they’d be the masters of their universe
And better parties, better women, better money
Would be why those rose each day,
Not this party we all know, that we all wish
Would disappear, with headaches left from too much booze.