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.

Cursing ensues.

 

“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.