The Come-On


The party’s warming up, you glance
Around the floor at couples danc-
Ing cheek to cheek, but no, she isn’t here.
She has to come: she said, she said!
Then suddenly a flaxen head
Peeps round the door, and you dispel your fear.

She smiles at you across the room,
Her come-on smile, and you assume
You’ve cracked it, soon you’ll have her in the raw.
She must have liked you more than she
Let on last night, and temptingly
She swings her hips and glides across the floor.

You raise your glass and take a sip,
Nod to your host and make a quip,
He laughs, you laugh, then you respond to her.
You’re grinning like a Cheshire cat,
And nearly stumble on the mat,
Such are the passions she’s begun to stir.

You reach her, still your stupid smile
As one possessed, bewitched, beguiled,
Is lighting up your face, you pause to think,
But as you start to say hello,
She passes you, you didn’t know
The man behind had offered her a drink.

A swift kiss, then they’re arm in arm,
And walking off, you’re not alarmed,
Just puzzled, then they’re through the door and gone.
She hadn’t noticed you at all,
And suddenly you’re feeling small,
And wondering how could you be so wrong?

[The above was first published in the 1987 anthology We’re Coming For Your Telecom Shares.]

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