Pulling pints on match day

We had the Women’s FA Cup Final today and it was lovely to see it televised and attended by thousands. Things are really looking up for


murder on the dance floor

gray disco ball on brown wooden surface
Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

We sat, side by side, at the discotheque,

Gripping bottles filled with blue green drinks

Smuggled in with bags and coats with pockets deeper

Than the bouncers dared to search.

The thud of music drifted out, your skin so clammy

Next to mine, cooling quickly in the winter air.

We dressed in skirts that covered nothing

While our shoulders stayed so bare,

Puckered with the goose flesh marking out the month.

You cried softly while I pressed my hand in yours.

He didn’t need to tell you on the floor

With joyous lights dancing over writhing limbs;

He didn’t need to say he loved her most

While she hovered by his side, looking down

At he battered heels, bought from Top Shop

In the days when high streets ruled the world.

Well, that time has vanished now,

Floating far away with love and childish dreams

And the puffs of icy breath, as we look

Towards a future so uncertain that we fear

We’re better off just dead,

Murdered on the sparsely loved dance floor.