You walk carefully
but with purpose
taking the same sort of steps
that you have hundreds of times before.
It’s an old game,
traveling in this labyrinth
this particular circle of hell.

You enter the kaleidoscopic hall
with the epileptic lights
and the freakshow costumes
on the barebacked ladies.
you are wearing your Sunday Best
here on Friday Night.
You are ready to get over last weekend’s heartbreak.
You are, once again,
starting over.

The last one made you think
you’d escaped this eternal loop,
didn’t she,
with her wise eyes
and eternal kindness.
She expected something of you
and you tried to provide.

Trying
is pretty much the stupidest thing
you ever attempted to do.

So now you’re back
from outer space
seeking inner piece
and hoping to avoid the sight
of your own blackened soul
for at least a night.

You take aim
at some gorgeous thing or another
and say, “We’ve barely met
but I feel I know you.”

It works
or doesn’t.
Who knows?