We waited in line, I didn’t have any money, but wanted to say hi to a friend. I was feeling damn high by the time I reached him at the end of the line. It was freezing out but I couldn’t feel anything. Mikado was bouncing clubs around West/Liberty Village. I stepped out of the queue and as I reached out to touch his arm, out of the corner of my eye I saw a fist flying towards my head in a fraction of a second, in that blur of movements I was thrown against the wall.
I don’t know what happened next, all I could see after was the face of a stranger repeatedly punched by my fist. I remember being detached from the experience, watching myself from a distance, like a ghost.
The fight must have lasted no longer than thirty seconds, but in that moment those seconds felt like minutes, long dreadful minutes.
I wandered the streets for hours, aimlessly and without direction. I was half out of my mind, as somewhere in the distance the sky was slowly turning grey, a great curtain opened to add a bit of colour into the night. It was suddenly getting very cold.
I woke up on a bus, it must have been very late or very early, there was no one else on it. I was freezing and didn’t care where the bus was going. I just wanted to warm up and sleep.
Photographer: Bob Hutchinson photo c/o Transit Toronto
I saw you catch my eye
In the rearview mirror
As we drove in to the night,
with your hand on mine
I felt my life slipping through
I didn’t notice the knife you
Tom Preisler is a poet and a musician based out of Toronto, Canada. His previous prose/poetry feature for us is here. His music can be found at https://youth3.bandcamp.com/.
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Art in purest form. Words in print, a portal to the soul.