Redefining Eden

You sip cider

It’s apple,

You think.

But it tastes strange

Too sweet

And yet

Too bitter.

The room is dark

Pierced by neon green lights

A venomous and deceptive color.

The music is slow

Hissing.

You feel far too drunk

And find yourself struck

By a midnight clarity,

The kind that makes good and evil

So distinct

So clear.

The club is called Eden

Your waitress –

A silent woman –

Goes by Eve

She often holds her torso tightly

As if something

Inside her

Doesn’t fit.