Beyond the sea front
I watch the weather come in
the changing light, the water lapping.
And back in time there were those parties
where we couldn’t remember a thing.
They say they were great,
but no-one remembers anything.
And up the sloping street
the same crowd moving, into the next pub flowing.
You know what, it’s only halfway to the weekend;
she’s already dressed up, smudged eye-liner,
and on the far side of the room:
should have seen the noise.
I wander back over.
I’m sorry I made her cry.
Someone else took her home,
hated herself in the morning.