The New-hire

Why can’t I move? Tied.

Where am I? I remember.

The bar. Coworkers. We danced.

She warned me, “don’t drink.”

My boss, trying to guide

me to the bathroom. I

pushed him away, stumbled outside,

he gave me my coat.

Snow. Cold. Traffic. Dizziness. Now.

Where am I? I can’t

move, can’t open my mouth.

Bruised. Everywhere. Left arm hurts.

A line attached. Blood flows.

Who’s that? A shadow. “Hrruo!”

Gagged. Here it comes. “Hup!”

“Finally awake, good.” A whisper.

The sound of a zipper.

“Hup ee!” Cold metal scratches

my right sole, pain, warmth.

“Now we can have fun.”