You dance slow
In the warm red darkness
Of some college bar-
Best girl
Flesh to flesh
Through the thin
Silk of your shirt,
As Steve Winwood
Tells everyone in
His joyful-sad low-rumble howl
About what the night can do
Heat and fag smoke
In the sex-heavy air
Hips grinding against yours,
Blonde hair a wild mane,
You bury your
Face in it
As the best girl
Who won't be caught
With you in public
Kicks you awake.
Fag ends
And empties-
Such nights
Never happened:
She 'd a been suckin' lollies in '88
While you and Dru sucked lolly suckers-
Rolling over
You laugh,
As she goes down on you,
Hips grinding against yours,
Blonde hair in your face-
As if you'd ever be more
Than what you are now:
A convenient, dirty shag-
An' a bang's a bang…right?
(Anyway, you never liked Winwood – the wanker!)