Family Wedding Disco
by Ben Macnair
After making the choice,
between Bride or Groom,
between Chicken, Pork, or Vegetarian,
after the speeches,
the clinking of half filled glasses,
some half drunk guest in a flood of tears,
the stilted, disjointed conversations with relatives,
you haven’t seen in years,
there is the social fiasco,
that we all know as the Family Wedding Disco.
Uncle Harry is dancing as only Uncle Harry can.
Dancing to Midge Ure, with tears in his eyes,
Playing Bass along with Chic,
and leaving the floor in disgust when the Birdy Song comes on.
All of the pretty brunettes are dancing with each other,
because their portly, rotund husbands would rather
talk to strangers about the fuel injection in their
new four by fours.
And the guest at the table who made David Brent
seem like the most charming man you ever met,
is telling you how everything he has ever done is far
better than anything you will ever do.
He is the sacrificial cake at the wedding,
That you let the Wasps have.
And after you are half deafened by the cacophony
Of the sound track to Frozen,
Three hours has passed,
And we tell each other we will see them soon,
But knowing that time, geography and experience
never seems to work in our favour.