Birthday Party

And here they were 50 at a 50th!!!

Balloons swaying upwards titillating the underbelly

of an enormous tent which had elegantly called itself ‘Marque’.

Flowers bend and bloomed boasting its florest-shop-top-shelve purfume

wilting ever so slightly toward pending death

Ice chilling the chilled air awaits the presence of bottled drunken swill

and sparkling glasses expectingly await to be smeared with lipstick

or dropped and broken.

The music knows it will be an intruder to raised eyebrows from afar,

especially the bass will be sure to boom and thud in the neighbours fleecy PJ’s.

Disco lights and devil wings seem to turn us into ageing

Go-Go Dancers, or at a push amazing Rock Superstars,  and

People scurry for attention from the seductive rhythm of the next Diva

that has truely only discovered her true potential that evening on

the dance floor!!

Dance cards are filling and hips are gyrating to the expectation of

who will it be lining up for the last song?

And then comes the slow motion faces dribbling knowledge and slurring

wisdom. Advice is given through the bottom of a wine glass and pointing

of the finger to make sure you know these words will be the result of a life-changing

experience!

All too soon there are gaps in the trip-the-light-fantastic dance floor, the

balloons are deflating as the once proud flower are now listless.

One  stayer from Studio 54 twirls to the rhythm of the Dazzling Disco Ball

And a festive trill called laughter spills out onto the unexpected stillness of

the early morn.  People “shush” and giggle as distant lights go on and inquisitive eyes

watch from behind gossiping blinds.

They are greeted by sober cars that are destined for such great things as

transforming into time machines to vaporise their masters into awaiting couches and

feather pillows.

Or, for those lucky enough on the night to meet that Superstar on the dance floor, a

grope and fondle of an intoxicatingly beautiful nature on the not so private dimly light porch!

As morning breaks into the battlefield of swill , cans and stale food we begin

to clean up the aftermath of world peace, and a guzzled beer full of forced opinions

and  the stories of lust swept under the carpet.

And the music continues to beat out the tales of laughter, loneliness and happiness

on an unforgetable night!

by Wanda Stafford

1st August 2007 (for my 50th Birthday 27/7/07)