a pop songs creeps out of the speaker
like a ghost moaning through a wall
apparitions of disco lights flash briefly
between long spells of darkness
and the only thing that i can see
is backwards
the only face i can make out
is squinty eyed and duck lipped
and as soon as the corner of my mouth
cracks what is almost a smile
she is gone
long ago
vanished into the same shadow
that takes them all
but every now and then
i still go to the club
with my laces tight
and a bouquet of flowers
to pay my respects
i twist and shout to dirges
and do the locomotion like a funeral procession
for the sweat we left
in socks
and stockings
to Billy Ocean songs
for the slow songs we swayed to
as if they were angels we prayed to
for when her body dipped
and my body bopped
until Death stole the dance floor
and our bodies
just dropped
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