17
by 
Jojovits1
|
Posted: Sunday, May 10, 2020 Word Count: 45 Summary: I was lucky enough spend most of my Saturday nights with the best people in the world at one of the biggest rock venues in the West of Scotland. It really was my tribe. We had a reunion a few years ago and I was begging to go home to bed at 1am! If I could have one night to go back though, I'd go back to being 17. One night would be enough, mind! :-) |
Well practiced
smoky dishevelment.
Peacock feathers
of liner and leather
adorn us
while we gloss our lips
with vodka
and Fleetwood Mac.
Fug of hairspray
and half smoked cigarettes.
A bass line
thumps an invitation
to surrender
and howl
under full moon
and flashing lights.
smoky dishevelment.
Peacock feathers
of liner and leather
adorn us
while we gloss our lips
with vodka
and Fleetwood Mac.
Fug of hairspray
and half smoked cigarettes.
A bass line
thumps an invitation
to surrender
and howl
under full moon
and flashing lights.