Elizabeth Robin Leaving the Margin unfettered, unwatched, unabashed an oversized young man lays down a ten-dollar bet ten dollars riveted, his gaze does not flicker from her, bets their age difference will be less than ten years ten years his pit bull—huge head, lolling tongue, happy smile— perches on the bar stool between them her eyes dart. he watches. the dog greets each new entrant to the kool kat scene she pets the dog. her friend discusses the bet. the man’s certain he’s nailed a guess his speech is as slurred as his judgment this, just after, in a wrist-snapping relay two women to her right, this man, and both bartenders flip out switchblades in west side story wrist-snapping style she’s been planning her exit since voices resonate—This whole being free, how is that working? her father would say. This is how death happens, her daughter would add. at kool kats a woman unwinds to her peril she dreams of a world she can navigate unfettered, unwatched, unabashed but finds here a painful spotlight glares baldly, disallowing even a margin to scribble inside she laughs, says i’d like those twenty years back slides past the man into a night sweet as men raining down her spine, in a sky without eyes or history, and breathes the ebb tide’s mist
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