"i'm a go-with-it kind a girl," she said.
and she did.
hopping onto the party oh what a kid!
olive skin. marble eyes.
combat boots. out of her mind.
i never can really keep up with the ladies,
though i try. oh, i tried it.
yes, i fit it, oh, i liked the cut.
she made me look good.
i made her look long.
we made out alright as the party wore on.
it was past 3 a.m.
gone were the passers through.
i was past caring,
passed out in the back room.

"oh girrrll," i purred.
we pulled at each other's clothes,
"oh girl, look what you've done to your arms . . ."
striped like her tights, red and white.
her elbows hit my chest.
she said, "i know best, now show me yours."
cuts? of course. no problem, sure.
i must have had cuts before i had scars
i can't remember them now
but i remember hers.
the party raged above and below.
our love grew like a vine around both our spines.
or maybe it was the wine.
is there always a point where things get ugly?
does this happen to everyone or am i just lucky?
she was getting friendly with the fellas, getting drunk.
i was getting suspicious that
i was being played for a chump.
my eyes got slanty my chest got tight
my thoughts got angry and
i got in a fight
with this guy she was talking to.
but i really can't fight
and my judgement is poor
soon she's yelling and
i'm holding my jaw
"what the hell was that about?
where do you think we are?
there are easier ways to get my attention than acting like a boor."
you know, she said,
this ain't so ambitious
following this party around from kitchen to kitchen.
you know, she said
this ain't so cool
hanging around here like a part of some girlfriend pool.
ohh ah i could tell she was serious
and that the end was near
that when it hit it would hit harder
than the guy standing over there.
so what would you rather girl?
i said sounding pathetic.
tell me, i'll go there.
i'll go there and get it.
hmmmm . . . no, she said
i think not.
i'm thinking i'm going to get it myself.
eeeouch.