He was the man who cleared up sick
when people spewed in the toilets.
It wasn't what he dreamt of
as a child.
Some nights there would be so much blood on the walls
he could write his name
with a fingertip.
All the knocked out teeth he found in urinals
he kept in a drawer in his bedroom,
sometimes, on winter nights
he could hear them chattering.
The other people who worked at the club
would never invite him to join them.
While the management flirted with barmaids
and the bouncers bought drinks for the dancers
he would wipe the bathroom mirror
until it gleamed.
On his 30th birthday
he drank his own bodyweight of tequila
and was sick on the train.
He caught it all in a plastic bag
double knotted it
and carried it all the way home
in his pocket.