at the party, when I look directly at her, she looks away
scared, perhaps
she has never been shy

but as we are all dancing, using drink as a crutch to walk the way we always yearn to walk,
I move close to her and confront her
dancing, she laughs and her eyes are full of life
she laughs and I dive straight in
to those brown eyes
the barrier, whatever that was for her, is now removed

and as the party draws to a close
she draws close
we are out in the street
oh northern boy
in London city
are you going to chance it here
with this girl?

she walks drunkenly
she talks drunkenly
she addresses strangers
she is rude and she is delightful
she is a delight to strangers
listening to her talk on the bus
she is a delight to me
watching her delight strangers
as she rattles away
drunkenly on the bus

and then she says we must go to the nightclub
and I agree
thinking this will never happen -
planning to walk her back to her flat
- back to her boyfriend
she is too drunk to make the correct decisions

but I am selfish around her
I want her to reveal herself
I want her to be vulnerable
I want her to show her mind
I want to look inside
and see if I am there at all

in any case,
as we step off the bus she races away
and when I catch up
I find we are at the club
and she says to the doorman
"My friend and I, we were in the club already,
we'd already paid, but our friend was sick
so we just came out to put her in a taxi home"
and there is a pause as the doorman consults with his senior
and I think this attempt amusing,
but doomed
so I am amazed when the doormen wave us through
It must have been her beauty which cut it.

Into the club, full of flashing colours and glitter balls
our feet stick to the floor
she turns to me and offers to buy me drinks
she knows that right now, I am poor
so I thank her, and she buys me two beers,
and two vodkas for herself
and then we dance
and I wonder as I move
"what the fuck is happening here?"

and we move onto the stage,
and we joke with the DJ
and ask him to play Counting Crows
and the theme from Baywatch
and he does
and it must have been her beauty which cut it.

and then she puts her arm around my waist
but I cannot tell if this is drunken comradery
or drunken honesty
but I put my arm around her waist
and enjoy it for all I can.

we dance for three hours,
sometimes laughing,
sometimes awkward and aware,
and I run out of ways to make her smile

two girls come close and she pushes me towards them
she means to console me
she means to set me up
she means to cheer me
this is not about our lust
this is an act of mercy

but I am happy enough dancing platonically with her
in fact,
I am happiest dancing platonically with her,
where nothing need matter but the moment,
physical and shallow,
as life is meant to be.

the lights turn on
it is 4 AM
and then a man grabs her
he puts his hands all over her body
and she is distressed
so I pull him away
and tell him to fuck off
but this drunk will not quit
he raises his fist and threatens to knock me out
and she is distressed
I call the bouncer
I'm no fighter tonight
but as they are about to throw him out
she says
"no no, it's alright, he's a friend"
and I am aghast

and she explains to me
"he's not exactly my friend,
he's a friend of my boyfriend"
and she looks ashamed
and I feel so sorry for her
that I just want to embrace her
but the fuck is still in my face
I give him a look,
"move, or I will hit you"
but he is content to leave with insults and nothing more
and she is content to allow this abomination of her
dignity

"I'm sorry, that's ruining the evening"
she says, almost crying
but she is wrong
this evening has been like dream
anything might have happened
I was prepared to watch it all bemusedly
as I danced foolishly
and saw the woman who had been off limits
dance seductively before me,
and for me.

As I walk home she rings my phone,
but I do not here.
I am singing the first line of Famous Blue Raincoat:
"It's four in the morning, the end of December"
and it is raining.
I love the rain.

At home I see the missed call, and there is a voicemail message:
"Hi, I'm sorry my mate was being such a twat, sorry it ruined the evening, so erm, yeah, let me know that you got home safely, text me."
So I text, and I let her know that I was fine, that I was only upset that her evening had been ruined, and that had I been her boyfriend, I would've smashed her "mates" head in for treating her that way, digsutingly, as she said no no no.

She never replied. She never replied.

So on the Saturday I went to the Valley and watched Charlton play Liverpool
and Steven Gerrard scored a wonderful goal
but I was still drunk
and trying to understand what had happened the night before
but everything was in pieces,
in dissaray and disorder,
and I think it was her beauty which cut it.