← v2n1, Spring 2003
Poetry · Volume 2, Number 1

Bad Night at Club Solidarity

The band is playing

poorly as the Metropolitans.

Your date keeps

calling you Hans, or Billy Joe.

A world away

a man is swept

off the street, disappearing

into the small h of history.

Where are the ships

on the river, the white stars—

that woman in a yellow dress,

gingerly combing her long black hair.