I just moved here, I’m new
and I need to make friends,
so I went out on U
but found only dead ends.
I was apprehensive,
going out alone.
Because bars are expensive,
and I fear the unknown.
But put yourself out there
is always the advice.
So I did my hair
and found American Ice.
It looked too hip
and there was a line.
So I chose to dip
and found DC9.
I went up and danced
on the second floor
as men advanced,
looking to score.
The dudes weren’t cool;
I brusquely declined.
I’m not in middle school;
I don’t like to grind.
I like gays in shorts,
so Nellie’s was alright.
But I really hate sports
so I bid them goodnight.
The Brixton looked pretty,
but confirmed my fears
of an overpriced city
with twelve dollar beers.
Drunk men started brawling
in front of El Rey.
I found this appalling,
and fled from the fray.
Feeling stressed
as I crossed Vermont,
I kept heading west
in search of my haunt.
The sidewalk was teeming
with gangs of brunettes,
teenagers screaming,
and e-cigarettes.
A block full of taverns
slinging their booze,
Bohemian Caverns
singing the blues.
Girls on Molly
trying to entice
guys in Solly’s
with Jumbo Slice
Bros at Ben’s
looking silly
fighting friends
over chili
I powered past
clouds of cologne,
walking fast,
feeling alone.
This isn’t my scene,
I thought with rue,
crossing Thirteen,
without a crew.
I ended my quest
at Lost Society,
where I was underdressed
and filled with anxiety.
Nearing U’s end,
my eyes filled with tears.
I don’t have one friend,
I don’t even have peers.
How pathetic, I thought,
I must have a curse.
I felt so distraught,
but then things got worse.
Full of worry,
my vision blurry,
I heard something scurry,
and saw something furry.
I was feeling shitty,
and that’s my excuse
for thinking a kitty
was brushing my shoes.
But there at my feet
was the ultimate scare:
I’m not alone on U Street,
there are rats everywhere.