Giggling, high heels caught in cobblestone as you collapse
In my arms as you’re wrecked with another fit of laughter-
You shriek in delight, stumble over air in rose-tinted time lapse
Head thrown back, eyes scrunched, clutching your sore belly after.
My darling girl, how you shine in the night,
The brightest star in the sky in your sequinned Zara mini dress.
My sugar and spice, in your alcoholic delight
You spin the world in your rendition of Dancing Queen, a mess
That only you can pull off. You strut in the age-old tradition of the young
In your painful, gorgeous shoes down the Highstreet, on the prowl.
After your day in the library, crying, as the world is ending, high-strung,
You let loose in a tale as old as time, divine feminine tradition, you growl
The lyrics to S&M, glittering gyration, my everything nice, you’re always game
As we chant the same words our ancestors chanted before us for the drink:
Those pinkish, fizzing potions: lick the salt, down it, bite the lime. All the same.
We connect with generations of carefree girls, unsteadily balancing on the brink
Between something new and something old. In the haze of neon glow, we are incandescent
And glorious, beautiful in our peacocking as we put on a show for the lucky few who watch.
The poltergeists of those before us, our mothers relive youth through our eyes, effervescent,
Heady perfume intoxicating as anything, shaped like a high-heeled shoe, turn it up a notch
As you put your graceful, swan’s arms around my neck, your nails my pendant, bejewel
Easily with your sparkling presence: your golden laugh, your silvery hair. I will treasure
These moments for years to come, as we dance as one. You sway, effortlessly cool.
How I used to wish I was you- but no, then I’d have to lose you, my sweetest pleasure.
And the fire in our hearts is kindled as tequila burns down our throats. You take a stance
On things I know you don’t care about as you pick fights with men for the sake of it: bliss
Must describe this moment: short and sweet sibilance, let me romanticise this dance,
Our final one of the night, one last silly prance, your face aghast when we finally leave this
Garden of Eden- sipping that J2O apple you took away from the bar, cough on the bubbles
As we walk back past the Radcam, the way we came, and I look you up and down, laugh
At your humanity, at your vulnerability, knowing tomorrow will come that crumbling rubble
Of the remains of last night’s Pompey, as we bask hungover in snowing, volcanic aftermath.