The girl to his left has amazing cleavage
but he’s with the girl to his right
so he coughs, bends over
and ogles as well as he can.
His girl knows what he’s doing though,
and glares while he stares
and the band rocks out.

The leftern gel catches on,
lights out,
and his eyes follow her
until his girlfriend smacks him down.
“What?” he asks.
“Leave her alone,” she growls,
just enough to make him afraid
while the rhythm section gets chunky.

She stalks out
maybe to the bathroom
maybe not
and he’s alone
where a minute before he had beautiful women on all sides
and he can’t help but feel that somehow in some way
he is partially to blame
there’s nothing for it
but to make te most of the evening.
He orders his eighth scotch and soda
at this bar
and the drummer drops a solo.

“What’s your sign?” he asks some girl
who turns out to be a guy that tells him “Stop.”
Our hero moves around the club
dancing with whoever lets him
which is a small number
as he’s known around these parts
when his girl returns
and gives him something else
that causes fright
and as the drinks and the beating
come together
in a perfect storm of unconsciousness
the band stops and says, “That’s all. Good night.””

About Jonathan Berger

I used to write quite a bit more.
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