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There’s a beer can in his bruising grip.

He’s stumbling and laughing and loud.

The room is blinding-bright

After the stillness upstairs.

His hand tugs on the brown bannister

Like it tugged in her brown tangled

Hair, and the beer tips

Onto the floor and his friends laugh

As he rights it and rights himself

And laughs, lucky and light-headed.

It’s bright and the scuffed floor is spinning to

Claps on the back and barks of

Laughter, praise –– he pulled it off

And god, the girl was there

Vivid and available, blurry

Both of them drunk, both dazed

Stumbling, frantic, flushed

His fingers clicking the lock

Their heavy gasps as he gripped her

His hand over her compliant lips

Her glassy, gorgeous eyes

And her mute limp body

Still lying on that bed, he bets

He should go to her again, but

The walls start bending when he whirls

Back around, and he might retch

If the floor won’t quit curving

And the room’s too tight

So he forces his way

Through the tilting tiled kitchen

Forces the front door

Open, lumps his lucky

Brutal body onto

The sure and firm-set earth.

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