Tripping at an Eighties Music Theme Party

Tripping at an Eighties Music Theme Party

A flock of steam girls watched videos of all-kestrel

manoeuvres in the park, on TV, as Gary and a new man,

performed rude-mode antics, all over Steve’s strange

icehouse, whilst Adam’s pants, freshly washed by Marilyn,

hung drying in the human league lounge

where, to cut a long story short, I’d lost my mind

earlier, upon being asked, by George, if I’d mind

keeping an eye on Andrew and Michael’s kestrel,

while they and he had a fun boy three in the lounge,

recently vacated by Gary and the new man,

who’d just been informed by Marilyn,

of a killing joke, concerning a very strange

incident which had suddenly occurred by the strange

icehouse, driving Steve out of his simple mind,

before the police, called by a now miserable Marilyn,

appeared with guns and roses, and shot the kestrel

I’d agreed to keep an eye on, and which the new man,

followed by Gary, carried into to the lounge.

George, Michael and Andrew, were playing lounge

music to a foreigner, born in the USA; a strange

land, completely unknown to the new man,

and Gary, neither of whom seemed to mind;

both being, as it were, preoccupied with the kestrel,

whose death even now was being spoken of by Marilyn

to the police, who turned out to be in the Marilyn

joy division, and as such, were invited into the lounge,

where they held a private investigation of the kestrel,

whilst drinking orange juice mixed with a strange

herb, said to have a eurythmic effect on the mind,

and which was secretly added by the new man.

I’d just now, sat silently watching the new man

surreptitiously stir the herb, handed to him by Marilyn,

into their orange juice and I was put in mind

of a materiel girl, reclining spiked, in a Bauhaus lounge

chair, all night long, at a party equally as strange

as this one, albeit minus Andrew and Michael’s kestrel,

which, to my mind, had earlier appeared, in the lounge

after the new man, egged on by George and Marilyn,

hovered, in a strange way, over my drink, like a kestrel.