This poem is titled Elgin's, it's in the book Shock Therapy Eloquence by Matt Peake
Elgin Street
Saturday night
December 12th
11:42pm
Griffin's Dance Club
-22C
it's fucking cold out here
I can't feel my face
my balls are numb and I think my dick fell off 20 minutes ago
I'd check but I can't move my fingers
the line up gets longer
the temperature gets colder
the bouncer lets in another group of girls
with big tits, tight pants, and neon flash eyes
what the fuck?
they just got here
we've been waiting for over half an hour
he tells us to calm down
finally get inside
thaw in the corner
line up for another 10 minutes to get a beer
there so many overpriced drinks to have my glass of ice with
decisions, decisions
oh God, I can't breathe
my beer is pressed up so hard against my chest
that I'm starting to get a bruise in the shape of a bottle
Oh God, I can't move
people are pushing me to the left to get to the bathrooms
showing me to the right to get to the dance floor
bumping against my front to get out
grinding against my back to get in
and my leg is slowly disappearing into the ass crack
of the big fat sweaty guy next to me
nobody can hear shit yet half the people are trying to talk on cell phones
this is the third Nelly remix in an hour
every bar the exact same 15 songs
just in a different order
sometimes
another fight
another bad pick up line
another ego tattoo
another expensive shirt
another set of carefully arranged breasts
another too cool bartender
another night
welcome to Griffin's bar on Elgin
the city's hottest new club
I've never had so much fun
