Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Dive Bar Knock Out.

The bar gets quiet and my nose starts to bleed. I look back at him and he sends another, crushing in on my eye. The guys behind me move away from the bar and I get some blood on their shirts and their pants. He grabs the back of my collar and throws me to the floor. The air gets knocked out of me and my vision starts wobbling. He kicks and my ribs get a burn. Someone yells to let me up and he laughs and steps back. I get to my knees and someone helps me to my feet, pushes me in. I put my hands up and try to wrap my head ‘round things. I throw a punch and he dodges, follows with a body shot and I cringe. He steps back and laughs some more, takes a hit off a joint making the rounds. The fags start screaming and the men start hollering and I catch my composure and put my hands back up. He comes back, fakes a left and comes with an overhand right and I duck out of it and go for his legs. I get his front knee and start pulling him down, but he’s a good forty pounds heavier and probably works out. He starts pushing on my head and pounding my temple. Some black covers me and I back away and move, dancing with some ghosts. Throbbing and fog and everything cloaking and I’m punching at nothing. I see him get close again and I go for another takedown. He stuffs it and puts my face in the floor, crushing my nose. He kicks my ribs again and steps back. The bar is filling with smoke and blood and some haggish girls start taking their tops off and dancing. Black leather and sagging biker tits start clogging the room and it’s getting hard to care. I get back up and someone behind me pushes me again. He catches me and I smile and let him hold me by my bloodied button-down. That close, I catch a glimpse of his tucked in nose ring, the kind my punk-rock sister had. Then he drives his forehead into mine and drops me.
I fall on my ass and I’m outside, sitting next to him and a pond and we’re having some sort of picnic. It’s sunny out and the air is clear, and his raven hair flows about in the breeze. He’s blue eyes and bumble-bees and he looks good in my denim jacket. I try to smile but there’s blood and broken teeth. He puts his hand out towards my face, says something, but it gets lost in the mirage.
And then everything goes white as I hit the floor down for the count.

1 comment:

marv said...

what bars do you go to?