Tumbling confusedly into himself,
He cannot move but he leaves the party.
How did he get here?
No, not here, here,
But in general.
Why is he in this town, with these people?
Somebody is shouting something in Spanish;
He understands, but slowly.
A chair breaks against a man’s back.
“Hay cocaina en el bano”
“No la quiero”
The man has a tatuaje on his cara
And a cuchillo in his mano.
It’s 5 am and he can’t find her
His only friend in this mass of dangerous strangers
She did quiere the cocaina
And now she can’t understand what’s happening
There is a hand gripping her arm
Pulling her towards a dark room
And she looks confusedly terrified
And he is scared for her.
Now he can move
He climbed back out of himself
Like a diver breaching for air
And he’s pushing
Then there’s shouting
And a flash of fist he didn’t know he threw
And a man on the ground
And he finds her hand
And they run.
In the car they don’t talk about it.
He hopes she doesn’t remember.