I should’ve known.
But one of you should’ve told me.
I got all the way into the belly of the beast
and didn’t even know.
I could’ve died.
BECAUSE NONE OF Y’ALL TOLD ME.
It’s the weekend before St. Patrick’s and my people will not be made to celebrate reasonably on the actual declared holiday, NO.
We will take the entire weekend before, day of, and a chosen few of us will heroically go out next weekend in our green uniforms and chase down a collective drunk the likes of which has not been seen since … Halloween.
I didn’t even realize it was St. Patrick’s Day (mostly because it’s STILL A WHOLE WEEK AWAY) until she walked out of the bar.
She pulled off her green LED glasses and began to cry. I approached with caution because hosting raves will teach you that people who cry behind LED glasses are a special breed of unpredictable.
An older man got to her first. His folly was my gain. I watched as he approached.
“Are you okay?” This poor fool had fallen to the Siren’s song. He saw a young woman crying but had missed the green LED glasses.
She sniffs, partly from crying and partly because she is catching hypothermia in her pink minidress in 50 degree weather.
“It’s my birthday and everyone is fighting!” The devastation of her own sentiment catches up with her and she begins ugly crying.
I keep walking. I want to help him, but I have to save myself.
I find a nearby table to watch from unnoticed as the man spins into frenzied madness attempting to make sense of her responses.
Two men in white coats come to take him away. The three are immediately stomped to death by a crowd wearing all green yelling something racist about Lucky Charms.
If I didn’t believe it a sin to leave free alcohol undrank I would’ve gone home immediately. I finished my glass of Syrah and walked my company to her car to make sure she was safe from the unruly hoards of Rosevillains and drove twice the speed limit to get home as soon as humanly possible.
Do not go out on those streets tonight children. Listen to your mothers. Amateurs spend hours making fun of people who go out to drink on St. Patricks.
I love you. So I’m telling you. They will be back out tomorrow, but it will only be the most savage, uncultured, and rageful of them.
Shelter yourselves inside after the sun goes down until next Monday when the streets will once again be safe … until May 5th.
—andru defeye
Flommist Andru Defeye is the Guerrilla Poet Laureate of Sacramento. Copyright © 2022 Andru Defeye. Montage by mehallo.
PLEASE SUPPORT FLOMM
TIPS + DONATIONS DISCREETLY ACCEPTED