if you could have it your way
michael takes me home "after hours." there's something to being driven, getting in the front seat, how he opens the door for me. he puts on lovage. i keep discovering things about him, like how he went to china in 2006 (not sure why) and how his mother refused to give his father her phone number on the dance floor of a club on 52nd street, one that doesn't exist anymore. "the dance floor," he says. "that's where it always happens."
the night before, on another dance floor further east, he tells me, "this is how we met" and it's corny (though it's true) and we've only known each other for a week and i was dragged to this dance floor in a fishtown warehouse against my will, but i like it. it's nearly 3 a.m. and i crack open my second PBR in this warehouse and let a guy in shades dance up on me for a minute. michael takes photos of me but i don't notice. we plot our escape. his hand in mine. i don't understand the point of it all because by now, haven't we learned how it ends?
i don't want to give myself up to him, don't even want to look in that direction but we are dumb with intimacy and novelty and dance floors.
the night before, on another dance floor further east, he tells me, "this is how we met" and it's corny (though it's true) and we've only known each other for a week and i was dragged to this dance floor in a fishtown warehouse against my will, but i like it. it's nearly 3 a.m. and i crack open my second PBR in this warehouse and let a guy in shades dance up on me for a minute. michael takes photos of me but i don't notice. we plot our escape. his hand in mine. i don't understand the point of it all because by now, haven't we learned how it ends?
i don't want to give myself up to him, don't even want to look in that direction but we are dumb with intimacy and novelty and dance floors.