She doesn’t mean to
slam the door
before locking it,
slam the blank book on the table
before she drinks
her morning coffee.

Never meant for one night
in the Flats
to mean so much.

Wishes she could separate
the mean from memory,
the moment from charisma,
the hero from reality
beside a narrow snake
of a river.

She just wanted
to dance
is a lie

told and retold
and forgotten
by everyone
especially the singer
throwing wisecracks
at her, at the crowd.

Everyone save her.
Save everyone who ever let one night
change their lives. Save me.