no one stops grace
from grabbing the microphone
off the irish singer
and belting out the rest of the song
no one stops grace
from dropping the mic and falling on her ass
no one stops grace
from sliding off the stage
from her dress sliding up her legs
giving everyone a glimpse of her crotch
no one stops grace
from standing in the middle of the floor
and smelling her arm pits
from pulling strangers along, trying to get them to dance
no one stops grace
from doing push ups or from ordering another martini
the man with grace sits on his stool
and shakes his head
when she goes over he pushes her away
and no on stops him
no one stops grace
from slugging down the martini in one gulp
from going back on the stage
from bothering the band
from taking out all of the mics from their stands
and dropping them on the floor
no one stops grace's man from leaving without her
while she stands on the stage like a dunce
and the concert goes on around her like she isn't there
no one stops grace
from falling again and showing her crotch again
no one stops grace
from staggering into the women's room to get sick
to splash water on her face
to wonder what in the hell happened this evening
no one offers grace any help
any solace
and no one stops grace
from stumbling over to the soundboard
putting her hands all over it
as she chants
sound
sound
before walking out the barroom door alone.
John Grochalski writes from Brooklyn, New York. He is the author of "The Noose Doesn't Get Any Looser After You Punch Out."