Cate Hatch

she was alone

she put on her prettiest dress and made sure her glass was full

she put some music on and swayed to the rhythm

she didn't try to forget cause she knew she never would

she just closed her eyes and twirled around

she'd spill her drink and suck the liquid off her hand

the longer the music played the drunker she got

the drunker she got the more sad she got

she felt nothing

she was becoming nothing

the tears welling up in her eyes blurred her vision

but what was there to see anyway?

there was a knock on the door and she ignored it

it didn't matter that whoever it was could hear the music

tonight she was not home for anyone

when she ran out of booze she grabbed some money to find more

the dress she wore barely covered her arse

but she felt good in it

she knew all the boys stared as she walked past

she knew they wanted a piece of her

and she'd give it to them for the right price.

she ended up in her local pub

a band was playing that indie inner city rock so prevalent these days

distributed by a boutique label owned and run by a fellow musician

who painted on the side cause he was an artist, don't you know

and often jammed with touring bands from interstate and overseas

skinny boys with no arses, probably vegetarian

drank the local beer and wrote songs about unrequited everything

and named them after girls that only the cogniscenti knew

hell the singer even had a cowbell

she remembers a lost weekend with a drummer that turned into an affair that lasted several months

when he found out what she did when he was out of town he left

she didn’t cry

she laughed at nothing in particular and continued to drink

Cate Hatch is a writer living in Sydney, Australia.

Return to Back Issues.