I hate this place, he says.

This music, these beers

These people

 

There is nothing new or original in that sentence

 

I am not surprised anymore

When a man handing me a beer

Holds on to my fingertips a second longer

And that little bit of contact

Makes me lose my shit

 

I am not surprised

When I realize too late

That I can’t dance

Yes I forgot

 

And no I am not surprised

That when that moment finally comes

When some guy pulls me in close

My immediate innate reaction is to panic

And cower and flee

 

Like some kind of weird sexual possum

 

And I want to say “I hate these people too”

But I don’t mean it

I want to say “let’s get out of here”

But I don’t mean that either

 

What I mean is that I love

I mean fucking love

New Order

 

And that’s enough for me right now

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