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Personal Note:

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Poem

‘You have to leave, miss. The club is closed’
Bang. Bang. Bang. 
‘Okay’
I stand
My head spins
I sit down and pull my knickers up.

What the hell had happened? 

I remember Tracey with her arm around my shoulders
‘Don’t worry sis, I’ll look after ya’

The night had started off great
Pre-drinks
Cab ride
Then down a spiral staircase
A man behind a hole in the wall takes our money
Looking like a miniature whore in make-up and heels 
I was let in 
Without question
Fourteen
Thrilling

Dark room
Deep reggae
Vibrating wooden floors
Winding bodies
Flashing white teeth
Air thick with smoke
The green type  

Tracey hands me half a lager 
With lime
‘Get that down ya. I’ll see if I can score ’
The first mouthful tasted like earwax
The second 
Earwax
Why do adults drink this?
I put the glass on the bar 

A Rasta with six-foot dreads hands me a joint
I had seen it done before
So took a nice 
Long
Pull 
And held it down as long as I could
Then one more 
And 
PING!
I was done

The music was inviting
A fog rolled in
I remember swaying in time to the base
Barley cognitive
Sensing an encroaching tsunami

I sat on a chair
Flitting in and out of consciousness...

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