Actually my colleague's wedding on Saturday was far too charming and sincere to dare give him a copy of this poem, and disappointingly, no sleazy DJ with bad PA system for added entertainment value either! (isn't cynicism a terrible thing?)
Weddings are easy – the same hoary old hits
With a special thrown in for the bride and groom
Sound system clanging on an overloaded bass
A few random flashes from the coloured light box
Children are our future Whitney crescendos
A bit of 60’s for the parents –
Some cheese from Tom Jones
Abba, if you’re lucky.
He hardly ever opens his CD case
For his three hundred quid
Just lugs his equipment
To this naff hotel and that
Sets it up, announces first dance as man and wife
And sits it out with a ciggy
And a six pack,
Pre-empting no one will buy him a drink
Decides whether he would give the bride one
(and 11 brides ago he did),
Or whether to dread her thank you kiss.
Bets with himself how long it’ll last
As he watches them cuddledance, cameras flashing,
She, trying not to fall over her ivory silk train.
(it’s all ivory silk these days).
A ropey fade-out and in, to the next track
When it becomes a hesitant free for all
Adults shyly taking the floor
Uninhibited children throwing themselves
Tumbling and squealing in princess outfits
An elegant dame swaying in lilac palazzo pantsuit
And her attentive husband, represent the older happy.
Then there’s the couple who can dance really well
Far too well for Stevie Wonder.
And all the bad dancers
The impossible wobbles squeezed into impossible sheaths.
He still likes to watch though,
Remembering how once it swept him away
The sheer happiness, despite the bad food and his music
The effort, the optimism, the children’s buzzing
How bliss could exist even in a Travel Lodge
With contract carpets
No matter, the obligatory vomit, drunken guest, bit of a scene
But now he’s aware of more disturbing impulses
When he goes home and toys with his Joy Division CDs
To play or not to play…
© LS King 2003