Pick a venue now, bouncer in black curly ear-cord heading ‘round the back like his old house phone’s been filed hidden tight away, like his neoprene smile. A line of glitz straggles from the stairs bum skirts, high heels, production hair strapless bras, assets wrapped for display, earrings dangle long, the click and sway. Dudes wide-stance in respectable jeans, slick hair, cool shoes, too built to be teens white t-shirts that show off their pecs, gold chains glitter around beefy necks. Once inside, the bass truncheons my chest we pick a place to dance away from the rest R&B is schmoozing and the lights are dim glasses clink, it’s a cool blue feeling. We smile at each other, build our circle of two using only our eyes to quietly exclude. We only drink water and when we’re done we’ll scab pokie coffees, a dollar for one then to the Sports Bar to chat with Ned who told us of piercing his Prince Alfred. By the time morning comes, byzantine grey we’re at George St Maccas ready for the day.