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.