‘dancing with a touch of class’ every monday night, the grand stage restaurant, third floor, western market, central, hong kong

she sings candle in the wind

and all that jazz

i have a table to the side and to the right

the rest are dressed for dinner, colonial-style,

even a chandelier shouldn’t have

décolletage this long, it’s all

coming up tuberoses as i smoke

double happiness, gold and red box

in the swagged balcony, the lights,

the escalator,an archway

of roses and the miss havisham wedding cake

in the corner. this is elegance, this is

‘dancing with a touch of class’,

the business of love as the stars spell out

their names and the slow glide and quickstep

past, a dance parade but this

small-town girl needs to fly

to reach her dreams in the sky

di-dee-di-dee-ahh!

watching the rosebuds

vanish in the tealit glow

scattering their steps as they pass

watching their reflections – i want

this waltz with you, gold heels

catching for a moment in

the lace of her hem, you’d think

it deliberate how she

arches her knee

to retrieve it

the glitterball casts

stars on the panelled floor,

backstepped and twirling

beehived high kicks

as the girl on the balcony

serenades us all