He was a cocky man, full of
Pride due to his rank and reputation.
Obligated by prominent friends, he said
He'd give me an hour.
We met for drinks at the trendy bar, all
Black and red, leather and lacquer,
Bustling and brash.
He looked me up and down like you would
A standing lamp in a department store.
I guess I passed the first step, so we
Sat across from each other to make small talk.
Gin and tonics, please.
I probably didn't give a shit one way or the other,
For he was like a million other guys,
All full of himself and not very charming.
But he had all the on-paper attributes that
I knew I was supposed to like, and as he relaxed,
And as the gin did its nasty little tricks, I grew to
Like him well enough.
Our conversation grew more entertaining.
He said he was surprised that I was interesting and
Could talk about sports, so he suggested
That we order food.
Second test passed.
After we ate, he drank more, and became more enthused.
He was having a great time with me, he said.
It was so much more than he expected.
(Obviously my advance PR needed work.)
He wanted more, to do more.
He had seen a famous but shabby club nearby.
One he had always wanted to visit.
I went there often, I said. I was
Surprised he'd never been there.
So we walked over, and up to the bar.
As the band began playing, the bartender
Asked us what we'd like to drink.
I ordered a beer, but my date pounded his fist
And yelled that we must have
Shots of tequila!
Shots!
He said again.
Now, I rarely drink shots of tequila,
Because it's the sort of drink that
Takes you from zero to sixty in 3.2 seconds and
Turns you into a sloppy mess, so
You had better be drinking it with close friends.
This was not one of those situations.
I declined, but my date, angered, drank three shots
In short work.
He began acting like a man who had been
Locked in solitary confinement for twelve years
With only a slit of a window to the outside world
And his meals slid through three times a day,
Suddenly released and unleashed on the world.
He was no longer the buttoned-down and
Buttoned-up attorney at law with a
Receding hairline and oddly wonky smile.
He was a man of power and fire!
In the space of two minutes
He turned into an out-of-control,
Screaming, grabbing, raging nightmare.
And I was his date.
I had the distinct displeasure of pulling
His hands, mouth, fingers, knees, tongue, teeth,
And just about anything else he had at his disposal,
Off me and out of me and away from me,
And wondered how I could make a dash.
His words, once guarded, turned revealing,
But harsh and attacking.
My eyes darted around the crowded room, and
Saw familiar faces that
Avoided mine, buried in assumptions.
The best chance, I felt, since pleading, reason and demands
Did me no good, was to
Suggest more tequila.
He was all for it, and it did the trick.
My trick.
Instead of giving him more valor,
It put him right on his ass.
And into a cab, which I deftly
Avoided, slamming the door on him and
Making my mad dash for freedom.
I saw him the next day, when he invited me to stop by
To meet his dog and see his house.
He lived nearby, in a tidy house full of
Terribly ugly furniture and motel artwork
Inherited from his late grandmother, and
The ugliest dog I have ever seen in my life,
So ugly, in fact, that I gasped when it emerged,
Not being sure what sort of animal it was.
I declined an offer of wine, or beer, or whiskey,
And merely accepted water from the tap,
To his dismay.
I realized that he had no recollection of the events of
The night before, not the poking fingers or the
Neck biting or the bar pounding or the skirt grabbing.
He barely seemed hung over, even.
I was impressed, but still wary,
And I made polite comments
About his house
His furniture
His dog
Nice doggie
And he kept staring at me
With eyes that seemed like a shark's eyes,
Sort of small and bead-like and empty
Or confused.
Once I ran out of niceties, I decided that
There was nothing left in my tank so I
Thanked him for his hospitality and tap water and
He walked me to my car.
As I backed down the winding driveway,
I watched his face, those shark eyes
That stared at me with some emotion that I
Could not place
Either longing or dismay or frustration,
I don't know, and then I
Think I possibly backed over his pansies on the way out,
But instead of stopping to check or to
Make an apology, I admit
I made another dash, put the car in drive and
Got the hell out.
Pride due to his rank and reputation.
Obligated by prominent friends, he said
He'd give me an hour.
We met for drinks at the trendy bar, all
Black and red, leather and lacquer,
Bustling and brash.
He looked me up and down like you would
A standing lamp in a department store.
I guess I passed the first step, so we
Sat across from each other to make small talk.
Gin and tonics, please.
I probably didn't give a shit one way or the other,
For he was like a million other guys,
All full of himself and not very charming.
But he had all the on-paper attributes that
I knew I was supposed to like, and as he relaxed,
And as the gin did its nasty little tricks, I grew to
Like him well enough.
Our conversation grew more entertaining.
He said he was surprised that I was interesting and
Could talk about sports, so he suggested
That we order food.
Second test passed.
After we ate, he drank more, and became more enthused.
He was having a great time with me, he said.
It was so much more than he expected.
(Obviously my advance PR needed work.)
He wanted more, to do more.
He had seen a famous but shabby club nearby.
One he had always wanted to visit.
I went there often, I said. I was
Surprised he'd never been there.
So we walked over, and up to the bar.
As the band began playing, the bartender
Asked us what we'd like to drink.
I ordered a beer, but my date pounded his fist
And yelled that we must have
Shots of tequila!
Shots!
He said again.
Now, I rarely drink shots of tequila,
Because it's the sort of drink that
Takes you from zero to sixty in 3.2 seconds and
Turns you into a sloppy mess, so
You had better be drinking it with close friends.
This was not one of those situations.
I declined, but my date, angered, drank three shots
In short work.
He began acting like a man who had been
Locked in solitary confinement for twelve years
With only a slit of a window to the outside world
And his meals slid through three times a day,
Suddenly released and unleashed on the world.
He was no longer the buttoned-down and
Buttoned-up attorney at law with a
Receding hairline and oddly wonky smile.
He was a man of power and fire!
In the space of two minutes
He turned into an out-of-control,
Screaming, grabbing, raging nightmare.
And I was his date.
I had the distinct displeasure of pulling
His hands, mouth, fingers, knees, tongue, teeth,
And just about anything else he had at his disposal,
Off me and out of me and away from me,
And wondered how I could make a dash.
His words, once guarded, turned revealing,
But harsh and attacking.
My eyes darted around the crowded room, and
Saw familiar faces that
Avoided mine, buried in assumptions.
The best chance, I felt, since pleading, reason and demands
Did me no good, was to
Suggest more tequila.
He was all for it, and it did the trick.
My trick.
Instead of giving him more valor,
It put him right on his ass.
And into a cab, which I deftly
Avoided, slamming the door on him and
Making my mad dash for freedom.
I saw him the next day, when he invited me to stop by
To meet his dog and see his house.
He lived nearby, in a tidy house full of
Terribly ugly furniture and motel artwork
Inherited from his late grandmother, and
The ugliest dog I have ever seen in my life,
So ugly, in fact, that I gasped when it emerged,
Not being sure what sort of animal it was.
I declined an offer of wine, or beer, or whiskey,
And merely accepted water from the tap,
To his dismay.
I realized that he had no recollection of the events of
The night before, not the poking fingers or the
Neck biting or the bar pounding or the skirt grabbing.
He barely seemed hung over, even.
I was impressed, but still wary,
And I made polite comments
About his house
His furniture
His dog
Nice doggie
And he kept staring at me
With eyes that seemed like a shark's eyes,
Sort of small and bead-like and empty
Or confused.
Once I ran out of niceties, I decided that
There was nothing left in my tank so I
Thanked him for his hospitality and tap water and
He walked me to my car.
As I backed down the winding driveway,
I watched his face, those shark eyes
That stared at me with some emotion that I
Could not place
Either longing or dismay or frustration,
I don't know, and then I
Think I possibly backed over his pansies on the way out,
But instead of stopping to check or to
Make an apology, I admit
I made another dash, put the car in drive and
Got the hell out.
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