the drunk asked me what i was writing & i said "amores perros."

she asked him politely to stop. he did not. she asked him again, and still he did not. a third time & the din & hum of the bar and its concourse. she fixed him in ice and he writhed within her constraints. almost enjoyed the bondage of it. when she eventually turns away (as they always do) he feels a deeper chill, one that ossifies the blood in his veins. he orders another beer & another shot of tequila. the scathe of the booze riots without recourse, metastasizing through the empire of his circulatory system -