I remember running into a tenement building,
up to the second floor, then looking out a hall window
where my friends were doing the duck walk
to prove they weren’t drunk. Jeff had thrown
a book at a storefront window, setting off the alarm.
We were obnoxious in that way college students can be
and I was woozy from the saké which I gulped
not knowing it was supposed to be sipped.
I was one of the boys that night, not quite a girlfriend,
and quack quack quack we giggled later. The policemen
shook their heads—no ticket/no brutality/no arrest.
Later, the taxi driver said we’re here now, nudging
my shoulder awake. I’d passed out on his back seat.
When he opened my door, I gave him all money I had
so happy I hadn’t been raped. And because he was
a nice human being or because he felt good about the tip,
he caught me when I tripped and made sure
I got to my door safely. Once inside, I blinked
the outdoor light as a final goodbye and thank you
again. Sam, earlier in the night, had said, “Watch out”
and grabbed me back to the curb, a bus
speeding past, the driver giving me the finger.



Saturday, 2 pm

Ladies with face lines,
your first needle is on us!

Man with the biggest,
hairiest stomach flab wins!


Denise Duhamel
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