party last night. show up as a darling dontcha wanna? am late, impossibly so. beer’s gone, bong already passed hand to mouth & hand to mouth. am forced to sip coke, listen to english majors wax brian wilson or the beatles? you must choose. ive got terrible posture, slump against any/all flat surfaces. stare out the open window, a string of steetlamps stretches, & i spend the remainder of the night trying to talk color back into the light.