She turned 31 & wanted to dance

by maddrunkgenius

‘My ex-girlfriend became a stripper & she may show up here,’ she says & chortles blondly.

——’It’s your birthday, and it happens once a year. We’re all glad you’ve survived another 365 days.’

Lesbians feeling eachother’s breasts; a photo opportunity to put up peace sign with duck face. (I can’t look.)

——’Happy 31st birthday.’ (I don’t think she wanted the Andes Mint. But she was polite about it.)

You cant ever disrupt someone’s game when it’s a sure thing. There’s a code or something. Not chivalry but fraternity.

——Canadians know everything about America; we only know that Canadians exist.

Grab-tit photos are obviously the best.

——Oh ho! A pre-midnite portrait courtesy of Ms. Victoria.

It’s not the drinking, really, it’s the bars that do it in their life, in their vivacity. God I love this Living, this Everything More.

——The subtle breast-bouncing shouldershrug, how unsubtle.

I’m not drunk enough to feel guilty. Yet.

——What is the matter with having a damn good time?

Water with a tan & red stopper. ‘Vanilla vodka?’ No.

——God, conversation is so much more at midnite.

Index finger pointing, then curled into a shaking fist, but smiling.

——The jabbing intently of her isnt insult, but fervor, only.

Everything lubricated to run smoothly — romance, disagreement, hugging, laughter. This is how interacting goes.

——She birthday glomps the now-offwork bartender to come downstairs. ‘There’s going to be a danceparty downstairs.’

‘Yeah, that’s what I think as well.’ Gulp.

——Huggy neck-pulling affection & love. Innit?

Pour more, Eagle Sweater. We love you for it.

——Handsey rape culture. It ain’t if not unwelcome. (ethanol)

Those black & staring dryly eyes — how they take in all else in the room, seeing all, understanding none.

——Face-rubbing self-awareness but forgotten by morning. Or even earlier.

‘Grab his penis.’ Shriek. ‘I know.’

——Ez-Mozilla now Microsoft takes Victoria home to his apartment with none to-do but much talk of misogyny in reddit & vidya gaems.

Fuck, whatever will my tab be?

——Locked arm & smiling, she so tattooed with she in green-and-black striped shirt walk arm-in-arm toward only bathroom.

Oh what funny awkward still-sober sapphic advances the bespectacled lass do make.

——Nikki wants to dance, and why shouldnt she? It’s her birthday aint it?

Ten & two in the corner — god knows why but they’re enjoying themselves, and that’s why enough.

——Slowly up from the bowels they rise, with the wide-faced smiles of the fully intoxicated.

Drunk in booth side-by-side with arm overlapping & faces but two-inches from one another, speaking intently of important things.

——’Cheers!’ Hair-Hanging-Over-Ears says before coming over to flirt with brown-out chicks still somewhat aware.

Everyone reading in public deep down wants someone to interrupt & ask what it’s about.

——Smirky lipstick-triangle. (blonde, brunette, green flannel)

(A pitcher of beer is all you need for communal love.)

——Two of East Asia descent, shoving a mixed drink back & forth, arguing who should have it more, he or she.

Life is short & sweet & [illegible] like your life is over.

——’Don’t challenge me!’ Finger wave. ‘Ah ha ha ha ha!’

Lesbian hoverhand (intoxicated), but sure.

——A glance-down evaluating, a lust.

More & more funny, more touch, more certainty.

——Standard social division more easily crossed.

Who knows what’s going on downstairs?