Prepare to be attacked.

You were the woman alone in a crowd at the Lithuanian Dance Hall, your favorite night of the month.  I watched you (tall, awkward) lean against the wall, while your friend (lost in the newness of love that you desperately seek) ignored you.  And realizing that your evening had reached its fullest potential you left without notice, walking down W. Lombard, $7 in your pants, $40 in your bra, keys hooked to belt-loops, preparing to be mugged.