Sally Blake
Thanks Jools
I sat on plush velvet in the Royal Albert Hall
as his hands flew over black and white
and crimson-coated stewards
tried but failed to stop
spontaneous boogie
in the aisles below the box
where my foot, safely in the shadows
began to tap.
He said we had to sing like Pavarotti,
join in with the boogie
or go home sad.
My throat burned red,
took a risk,
choked out notes.
I wondered if the glue
that stuck my buttocks
to the seat would melt.
The big band belted
Enjoy yourself it’s later than you think.
It bloody is I thought,
sprang to my feet.
I must have caught the boogie;
a jack-in-the-box trapped
for forty years—
released.
Page(s) 45
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