I saw my reflection
in the glass table top
down at the Roxy wearing
too much mascara~
your fingertips branding me
awake when our song played

I feasted on your hot breath
and controlled movements upon
the waxed tile,stimulated by
the black tie and her perfume

My plastic hands reached
into your dinner jacket for a mint,
discreetly placing the twenty
within its satin folds

It was the bands last set
and it was right on
the tip of my tongue,
except that I just knew you
tasted like gin and strychnine

Written by Sara Fielder © Sept 2012