Alcohol night falling apart 
and they pull me from the car, 
moon faces going red now that 
my forehead’s broken, how many 
are there, for God’s sake, punching, 
kicking, spitting —
                                                    or is it now 
only one man face down 
on the pavement, and 
everybody is watching me 
take the stick and hit him 
on the head, he climbs to his knees, 
I see my blood in his eyes, I hit 
him again, he falls, doesn’t it 
feel like we’re dancing? 
Out of the corner of the screen 
it’s me again, he has his back 
to me, the toe of my boot 
enters his body from behind, 
the sweet crack travels 
up my leg to the center of my spine, 
is that him screaming? 
My fist behind his ear, my knee 
into his gut, my stick in his teeth, 
I am all over him like a stink, 
a hundred, a million, 
I have never been so many men.