Don stepped outside.
It feels good to be alone.
He wished he was drunk.
He thought about something he said,
And how stupid it had sounded.
He should forget about it.
He decided to piss, but he couldn't.
(A plane passes silently overhead)

The streetlights, and the buds on the trees, were still.

It finally came, he took a deep breath.
It made him feel strong, and determined,
To go back inside.

The light.
Their backs.
The conversations.
The couples, romancing, so natural.
His friends stare,
With eyes, like the heads of nails.
The others.
Glances.
With amusement,
With amazement,
With contempt.
So distant,
With malice,
For being, a sty in their engagement.
Like swimming underwater in the darkness.
Like walking through an empty house,
Speaking to an imaginary audience.

He watched, outside.
A soul without a key.
He could not dance to anything.

Don left,
And drove,
And howled,
And laughed,
At himself.
He felt he knew what that was.

Don woke up,
And looked at the night before.
He knew what he had to do.
He was responsible.
In the mirror,
He saw his friend.