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2000 NewYear’s Eve, it’s  p.m. Bar door on the corner opens and closes, it’s just silver slipping and slamming but first a run of heat through the door, the shine in the black of spigots and mirrors and bottles and desire without method and two men on some stools, womanless, elbows slid together, cardboard hats reading “ewYea” in glitter that rains down and the door shuts. Puddles by the curb, a little jazz of rain.A girl down there showing her teeth to a man, her voice all made of sirens and rocks and dirty butter and cheap stockings, preg again or out of dope or don’t hit me or don’t leave me or what will I do or take me with you and silence.Where the wind goes when there is no wind.What you will never be because you don’t know how to want to. If you cannot take me under cover of night, if you cannot save the whole world, what will become of me?  ...

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