The man who would be chaos
Hitchhiked to the end of the world
After a night of drinking
Dancing
And a gentle tab of acid

He had slowly moved
Down 3 flights of stairs
Through a thrill created from his own recipe
Printed on crackling, cackling money
This became the walls and the floors
And that final flight of stairs

And then
Out into the night
Fresh air and exhaust fumes
Asthma pump bitter
The still sweet smell of an earlier
Rough and tumble
With a girl only smiling with her eyes
Only gasping with her grip
Her hair smelled of sunshine and beach
Her lips told stories of alcohol and orange juice
Of a flirtation with a confused cigarette
And the salt from the best meal he had ever tasted

Now he took the hand of a stranger
Invited her along
They danced like the movies
On the pavement
And across the crossing

She got cold and he gave her his shirt
He got cold and she gave him
A joke about possibilities
A promise and a few insults
And her body for him to wrap around

And suddenly in a taxi
Staring out different windows
Having said goodbye so long
Who are you?

The man who would be chaos
Scraped his arm
It was bleeding and spitefully painful
And his jeans somehow torn

Fumbles for his key and
Then
Up
Into home
Into collapse
Into sleep
In his hand
A piece of paper with a telephone number he could read
And a name he could not