He hands me
a bottle
of vodka.
I take
my first
sip.
He stands
before me:
hair slicked back
like
Brian Setzer,
black jacket
and torn jeans.
The booze
goes down
my throat,
wet and warm.
The room
begins to
spin around:
I forget
who I am.
A soft feeling
runs through
my body.
It feels like
nothing bad
has ever
happened.
He turns up
the stereo
and grins.
I light
a cigarette
and stare
at the wall.
Finally,
I am
free.
