The bouncer was there now, making
his way to me through the crowd who were spinning
each other, tapping imaginary cowboy boots, it looked
like he was wading through deep and choppy waters,
…hey! …hey! …hey!
Still time, still time,
I looked for Snake Boy, he had
vanished,
two barmen appeared, blocked my way,
they were tall and younger than me – big pumped-up
chests like henchmen,
What did you do that for? One asked.
I smiled sweetly, I don’t know what you mean.
Still time. Still time.
…where did you come from Cotton-Eyed Joe.
They closed-in, making a barrier with their
arms to trap me up against the bar –
one leaned in really close,
bitch, he said, like he’d been waiting his
whole life to say it –
it was funny, Ava,
like a joke,
I laughed.
The bouncer had nearly made it to me,
the stomping was so loud I couldn’t think,
and the sadness in my stomach flipped,
became an icy feeling,
zingy, fresh,
I swung my fist
and hit one barman in the jaw –
nothing.
I felt nothing – no pain, Ava,
no contact, like hitting someone in a dream,
I did it again.
He made a funny sound.
How chic!
I stamped my black stiletto
on his foot – these shoes, the shoes I’d bought to bury
my uncle – apt, I thought –
punched him again.
