"There was a case that you could see through, and there were brains in jars and names on the jars. One said 'head trauma, Shipley, J,'" said Samantha Feldman, 22, one of the students."The best friend went outside and was flipping out," Feldman said. "She started crying and called her mom and said, 'Mom, Jesse's brain is here! I can't be here.'"

Billie orders us two shots of Crown as I watch

a man in his late thirties

sitting by the Photo Hunt

air drumming,

which hasn’t been cool,

and let’s be honest here,

for a very, very long time, if ever. 

However, tonight

I’m feeling rather nostalgic and when Slash

begins wailing November Rain

I can’t help but to lip-sync,

“You’re not the only one. 

You’re not the only one.”  

Billie returns during its violent culmination

slides into my side of the booth,

between my legs and up against

my groin.  Shortly after,

we shoot the Crown

and then Layla comes on the jukebox. 

Eric Clapton makes me feel like dropping my pants

and fucking everything in the room. 

Billie sits on my lap and I can feel

the crack of her ass

separating over my thigh

from underneath her skirt.  It arouses me to feel

the heat between her legs

suddenly flushed

against upper thigh. 

When she notices my erection, she inches

further up and kisses me

on the cheek. 

As we watch the shuffle board tournament

coming to a close, her hips rock

deliberately forward and back,

forward and back. 

Pittsburg is in the penalty box

and I just saw a pregnant woman

shooting Southern Comfort. 

Tonight on the way home

we play “No Cop, No Stop,”

and then fuck in my car

just outside her parent’s house.