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It was mostly peaceful, chaotic But mostly peaceful chaos. I took my shoes off. I got ready with how I was feeling. I ate the apple, And lost myself to paradise. But the thing they don't tell you Is that it's your body that leaves your soul, Not the other way round. You can literally feel your heart stop beating And it's not It's not even that strange You know what's going to happen But you aren't angry that you do know And in fact the fact that you do know Gives you some secret feeling of bliss And it's not, in any way, diminished, When that thing that you know is going to happen Does eventually happen. That's how I felt. I felt happy, In a secret way Naked obviously, Angry that I could hear voices But really, I was at peace with everything Just me and my slowly slowing heart And a crowd of faces asking me for my name And what the date was And whether or not we were in a time of national crisis. I don't know, kindness is so strange Ashamed doesn't really capture the feeling You know How it felt to be in front of them like that Blinking like a cat who just found out The mouse he's been trying to kill for the last ten years Just ate his last piece of cheese The only strange thing was that I could see Anything at all, let alone their faces I definitely wasn't supposed to be seeing anything Dimitri had promised me I wouldn't. I felt very very cold. It gets cold up there in the winter. Even colder if you've got nothing on. I remember saying that I hadn't taken much Which was a lie, of course. They were all looking at me Like I was the perfect example Of everything that was wrong with men in general And my generation in particular Why was the first thing I said When I came back an incredibly obvious lie? I guess that says a lot about me doesn't it. God it was miserable. I remember them asking me if I had anywhere to stay, And me pausing for way too long While knowing that the answer was obviously no And then saying no, And how terribly quiet they all got standing there Staring at me On that very cold winter morning This one goes out to the concept of luck, That pure blind luck That makes the womens netball team Walk back a different route around the meadows, A route that takes them past whatever I was at that point, That kind of luck. Monica brought that fact up to me, later, While I was lying in her bed, Trying to figure out If there was a way to intercept the suicide notes I had mailed to ten different international news media conglomerates. She said, a little too triumphantly I think That if she hadn't ordered that eighth round of shots Then they would have left early and I wouldn't have been there And that if she hadn't decided, In her As I was soon to discover, Classically whimsical way, to lead the gang After that eighth round of shots back around a different way Just because she felt like it, Then she wouldn't have found me at all. She found that that was all very relevant. So do I, I guess When we slept together that night, for the first time, I saw stars. It was beautiful So yeah, This one goes out to luck And drunk mad women...