Nights in White Satin

Lights flicker soft

on doom-ridden floors

where women and men

dance as one.

The heat and the life

on elegant faces

of immaculate birth

sweep diamonds from tables,

liquids from lovers,

under the pale moonlight.

Fur and sequins

and soft swishing satin

brush against glimmering skin

moist is the air, the hair, the pear

that is to be eaten tonight.

In the morning

drenched in pastel skies

you float home

and you think he does

but he never does

forget the nights in white satin.