The Marquee Club, Late One Night
A Pink Dormouse Production
Hair the colour of midnight mingles with peroxide blond,
The Marlboro splutters and dies.
In the pool of vintage wine and bourbon soaking into faded carpet
Joe Satriani plays to the pretty ones that fill the club, 
Oblivious to the two at the corner of the bar.
They kiss, forgetting that the public could be watching,
Wrapped in a haze of coke, acid, booze and love/lust.
The boy sees them and watches, 
Wanting to emulate his hero in yet another way
But unnoticed by those who think him too young, too innocent,
Too pretty to touch.
Hand heavy with silver jewellery caresses the shoulder,
Runs over the heavy steel rings to rest on a silk-covered nipple.
Slight squeeze, note the reaction, then again harder.
Other hand behind the neck holding him close.
The boy is tapped on the shoulder,
Turns to see the girl behind him.
She's blonde, slightly stoned, wants to enter his world.
But he just wants to keep watching the others
As they leave the club, stepping over the feet of a journo,
Who chooses to ignore the obvious- just this once.

 

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