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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