What happened after Karen's birthday dinner and stops at two other bars:

Last night we went to Hooker Hill,
and passed the women,
standing near doors,
“who pop out like cuckoo clocks,”

that’s how Carl describes it.

We drank from a plastic bottle,
at Polly’s Kettle,
cut in half:
Orange, Tang, Soju.

The DJ, who once was a man,
but now a beautiful woman,
played some songs that we knew,
so we danced and sang along,

until
our friend, was bit in the leg,
by one of the hookers,
on top of the hill.

That’s when we ran out,
to see the damage, the small
red mark, and her lying in the
road. It was nothing.
So, we went back to the dancefloor,

but the trance was broken, and we walked
to the convenience store,

where Mike bought:
Water, Pocari Sweat, Vita-C,
and
Kimbap Triangles
for everyone.

Mr. Kim, who is “a legend,”
that’s how Carl describes him,
who stuck it out and danced along,
drove us home, at 4am,

to the front of our buildings,
where we thanked him,
over and
over again,
in two different languages.

…

It’s more fun to write this way. Karen’s birthday party was lots of fun! I think I have more fun if I don’t have a watch.

Love, Cory