I have seen things you do not wish to see, 
in any theatre, not even in war. Together 
we have seen & done what few could ever 
imagine, even inside these dream machines. 
The men emerging from cubicles with their 
dicks hanging limp & out. Or the couples 
fracking with impunity by the dance floor. 
I knocked the glass of Nazi liqueur from 
your hand just for kicks, & then ordered 
another round. O it felt good to slosh my 
boots in the sticky stuff, to the tune of 
that song about Barbara Streisand. Truly, 
we're lucky to be alive (these eye-popping 
times, when men & women of all ages flock     
from the outlying villages towards naval 
bases at night. The beggar’s wooden hand, 
washed clean by rain & piss. A mini-golf 
course, winking at us all with its eighteen 
darkened eyes. I hit you, a drunken man 
admitted. I hate you, I replied, only half-
joking. We laughed but as he walked away 
he whispered bastard & I had to follow him 
to the cubicles - just to sit him down & 
finish him off. I have done things you 
would not wish to do, in any theatre, not 
even in war. And I have done them all in 
a Swedish sports bar to which you'll never 
be admitted, not even after we have gone. 
I have smashed myself upon the cool marble 
floor of Stars & Stripes but you'll never 
find a single shard of me there. Call me a 
foreigner, call me what you will - but touch 
me again 

                            & you fracking die.