Dateless Song

Saturday night with a phone to cuddle
a huddle of 'girlfriend with date' on the couch
you crouch and try not to envy or stare
from your chair where it's cold
you hold the remote and channel surf,
unearth some old B Grade horror with vampires.
An entire carton of ice cream is gone
the weight you put on will not help the phone ring.
If only an old flame, or someone would sing out
your pout would be gone. You'd put on your glad rags
snatch up your handbag, in twenty five minutes or less
you'd be downtown, dancing in clubs with a white
sparkling wine, glossy red nails and a dangerous smile.

Ooo baybee ... sing that rhyme
waiting at the club standing in line
for pina colada, a slice of lime
drink them two at a time