Bass thumps through
the car, rattling my teeth.
Sequins from my dress scratch my legs whenever I move.
My friends yell song lyrics out
of the open windows
as the dry California heat engulfs us despite the air conditioner.
Bright colorful signs blur past,
advertising strip clubs, night clubs, and alcohol.
I had three shots before we left,
but the subtle buzz isn’t enough.
Nothing will be enough.
I filter more and think harder when I drink,
concealing whatever it is inside that scares me.
I’m sick of hiding.
Tonight, my last night, I’ll be free.