The Other Side of Sunlight

"That's so fucking cute man, can you do it again?”

“No.”

Sunlight. Someone’s already having a conversation with the jukebox and we’ve misplaced our symmetry a while ago. It’s the final Wednesday and our inhibitions stretch out under the table as we lower our necklines and raise our voices. I find my girls in the chaos but fail to lose my drinking face. You pick up on it faster than I can control. We spot a random, decide he’s Frazer’s snoop dog and cheers to Jai Hind. We drink to Rags boobs. We drink to growing up. We drink to having no future. I know what you’re upto but just this once, I let it go. Still, I catch you smirking.

“You didn’t cut your hair off,” you say accusatorily.

“I’d look like an alien.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“Would.”

“Show me.”

I’m high enough to make a fool of myself so I pull back my hair and you choke on your drink. This means war. I leave you for the dark side of Sunlight and like a hero I run across the bench, bang my head on the big ugly tv and pose for a picture. When I come back to you, I’m wincing and there’s a small gash next to my hairline. You take one look at my face, plunge your hand into the ice bucket, wrap cubes in tissue and hand it to me. I’m laughing. You check for a bump but I tell you I’m fine. They’re playing ‘Time of your life’ by Greenday and everyone sings it with full feel. When I look at you, you learn forward and brush my cheek with your thumb.

“That’s ice water.”

“I thought you were crying.”

We're so young and beautiful. The energy we play with is brighter than this room and I want to stay here forever. Drunk, on edge and spilling over with stars.

There’s magic everywhere and magically, obviously we’ve been caught in its web. I feel real but this feeling, it’s called growing up and just for a minute I wish it would give it a rest.

Just so I can go home and mull things over.

Instead I shrug off my old cape for Sky.