He is a force of nature. I'm usually too
scared to react to people, if I'm alone, but
I did then 'cause I was sat on my own and
he seemed to take that as a good omen.
I was waiting for someone, as ever,
sitting and thinking about **** like how
some artists work better when they're drunk.
And a picture you start with improves so,
with a picture like this standing there,
you'd call it dappled gold, like cider
or with clarity like a martini if
getting ****** on your own was romantic.
But by this point, with the drinks I'd had,
he could have had any face or form
and I still would have danced with him.
There was no romance in this.
He decided to stop dancing at some point,
apparently he dislikes the things that
are good for us. He'd say dark stuff like that.
'What's the point in your tomorrow?' like
he'd prefer to think about my yesterdays.
Whatever happened in between this time
and the time it took to get me outside
must have been boring as **** because
he watched me light a cigarette, eyes
huge and saying nothing, apart from
'when will you stop flirting with me?'
because I asked him to dance again.
I checked, told him I had twelve
cigarettes left and no sense of self
preservation.