There are fingers are everywhere?—
pulling, pawing, palming flesh.
Twenty feet away,
some guy grabs a girl’s waist,
gets slapped, then kissed.
To my right, a dick just slapped the rim of someone’s whiskey sour.
Middle of the crowd,
a guy’s crouched, lighting a cig,
while a girl grinds on his back.
This is the filthiest corner of Rock 'n' Roll.
Bass-line creeps up thighs.
Drumbeats dry-hump hips.
The ceiling drips.
The walls pulse.
The floor fucks.
Sin and temptation’s on tap.
No, seriously.
What the actual fuck did I walk into?
Andrew said he hooked up ‘some.’
Not a couple or a few—‘some.’
Conveniently rhymes withcome.
Real safe syllable, isn’t it?
You know what ‘some’means, Drew?
Whatever the fuck it wants to mean.
Undefined. Unclear. Unaccounted for.
Floating somewhere between
‘don’t ask’and‘don’t wanna know.’
Now every set of lashes in here is aiming for my jugular.
And as heads turn to him,
eyes drift to him,
