ballrooms and giggles
lipstick-stained wine glasses
if we were red, we'd be maroon
billowing round skirts, all in sepia
beckoning fingers and pearled necks croon
bouquets by the table
we play with petals, they dip in response
laughter tinkles from ugly chortles
we would like a seat by the buffet
delighted tongues, viola strings
trumpets shake rib-vases
the climax deafens
pas de deux prolongs
resonance of impromptu cymbals crashing
we collapse on the duvet
