That night I didnít drink or sing, just stared at that lovely thing like kids do, the way the kids do, but this guy who used to go with her, "Get out", he said, told me, "Beat it, youíre luckís nowhere here." This guy who used to go with her, "Get out", he said, told me to beat it: no luck, nowhere. And this guy who used to go with her threatened me - way over-done - I remember: I wasnít drinking. And when I did decide to leave, "Donít go!" she said. "Whatís the hurry? Itís way too early." When I did decide to leave, "Donít go!" she said. "Whatís your hurry? Itís way, way early." But this guy who used to go with her, seems he forgot me not at all: sometime near autumn, towards the fall, me and a friend go walking by and there they stand, this big surprise - all eight of them. Me and a friend, walking slow, and there they are, all in a row - eight big men. I had my knife, so I thought, Hell, I wonít be got that easy! "Come get it, scum! You come and get it!" Why go down without a fight? Hit one hard with all my might, hit first, then: did what I had to. Why go down without a fight? I hit one with all my might, I hit him first, then, ícause I had to. But this guy who used to go with her, heíd gone and set up this whole thing: dead serious, deadly serious. Someone pinned me from behind - my friend yelled: "Watch out! Watch out!" he yelled: but didnít shout in time. Then they grabbed me from behind - my friend yelled: "Watch out! Watch out!" he yelled: he didnít yell in time. Eight sheep or eight lambs, be damned: prisons have infirmaries, too. I lay around there, hurt and murmuring. The doctor sliced me up and down: he told me, "Hang on, man!" He told me: "Hang in there, man!" And I hung in there. This doctor cut me round and round: he told me: "Hang on, man! Hang in there, man!" he told me. So I hung on. Our breakup took no time at all. She didnít wait for me, not past that fall, but I forgive her, yeah, forgive her. This guy who used to go with her, though, this guy who used to go with her: Iím not pardoning him. Of course I forgave her. This guy she used to go with, though, this guy who used to go with her: Iím catching up with him.        
© Thom Moore. Translation, 2010
© Thom Moore. Performance, 2010