Blog Post / Fall 2016 / Issues / Poetry / Poetry 2016 / Volume 47

Gentleman’s Club Garden–Jeffrey H. MacLachlan

One humid night, Jeffrey went to a bachelor party at a strip club next to an electrical substation. Tiffany’s Cabaret in Buffalo, NY. After about forty minutes, he went outside with a gay groomsman and drank Molson Ice in the garden. The flowers were infested with swallowwort — neon petals blinked around stems, dangling to muffled house beats. She’s moving out, he said. The wedding’s been off for a week. He free-throwed an empty into a pothole and burped an opera finale. A couple Sabres jumped a bouncer outside, the brawl striking Jeffrey like a grand piano, making him snort dew. The players paid them not to say a thing, and signed a jersey for the groom.

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