queen mother

the queen mother's holiday is over,
tomorrow, we wait for her next return.

you know its back to old times when:
she disappears, you disappear.
she appears, you reply.
she says come over at 8 and you just drop by at 11
and its always, "heyy, come in."
you help yourself to food and beer
the music alternates from reggae to radiohead
the guitars are whipped out
whispering heart-to-hearts amidst the haze and noise
that familiar smell
long pauses between conversations where everyone's just silent
and its just the music
and fifa on the television screen
until we find something to laugh at again
then at 1am, a fresh batch of deep fried goodies appear

we're all self-destructive
to varying degrees
to varying aspects
that's how we got along