laughter, stomping, fists against the ceiling
…hey! …hey! …hey!
The man I loved and might still love ran past me
pulling his girlfriend by the arm to join the do-si-do-ing,
…where did you come from,
where did you go?
his eyes on her face full of –
…hey! …hey! …hey!
Snake Boy was leaning in now, pressing the
wet, cold girl against the wall
and she looked pleased and ready.
…hey! …hey!
No one was looking at me.
The stomping was loud, was in my head,
I imagined what it would be like to
hit Snake Boy, to knee him in the crotch, to run and
plunge a knife into the yellow pages, or his torso, or his
neck –
…hey! …hey! …hey!
and then somehow I was in
front of him – Snake Boy – the captain’s hat still on my
head – my hands were on his shoulders, pressing down,
my knee was rising upwards, fast
between his legs –
he crumpled,
…where did you come from,
where did you go?
he shouted for the bouncer, tried
to grab me but I slipped away and ran towards the bar,
I was watching myself, Ava,
like in a film,
an action film,
I was – I saw – a glamorous vigilante
doling out the just deserts
…where did you come from Cotton-Eyed Joe
the audience were with me
weren’t they?
Shouting YES!
Kick him again!
Claw his eyes out!
