iAngel

iAngel

with a tinsel halo
and a pair of little feather wings
butter wouldn’t melt
dressed in white
like a choir
we were singing naff pop songs
as loud as we could
snaking our way
along the high street
pretending we were dead good

lined up
on the guest list
we sounded like a latin prayer
mia donna christina
emma victoria alice emma
rachel drew hannah gemma
holly joanne holly may sophie
ami

but after the club shut
we were that dun in on holy water
hannah had a gutter wee
down the side street by monsoon
donna caught a whiff of the body shop
threw up on their doorstep
she almost passed out outside waterstones
sat on the pavement taking deep breaths
legs wide open
joanne
for no apparent reason
tossed a burger
at the window of jane norman
holly had dun her first pill
was electric and sparklin’ and buzzin’
all loved-up with everyone
one of the emma’s gave it large
about some flash buff bloke
fingered for a phone number
and a bottle of doubleewekaydee blue
alice reckoned she’d given some lad
a shuffle in his pants
slut rachel fessed she went
so much further
than that

becci’s hen night was well wicked
shame becci vanished with the stripper
wasn’t around to witness
christina flashing her tits at some fit copper

even though we’d forgotten
most of the words
we was still singing robbie’s angels
with our voices ever so saintly and sweet
that angelic
are we