The name of Wednesday-night parties at New York City's legendary Limelight nightclub. It was dominated by clubkids, drag queens, and drug dealers. Hosted by Michael Alig and DJ Keoki. Alig was also the promoter.

The parties went on during Limelight's tenure as one of New York City's "megaclubs" in the early to mid-nineties. Ultimately, the parties ended in 1996 when the owner, Peter Gatien, was charged with drug and tax-related crimes, and the clubs were shut down. To compound the matter, Michael Alig was arrested for allegedly murdering a reputed drug dealer.

We were grey and skinny things, just big anime eyes above nylon jackets, warm in the rain expecting to burn out by the end of the night. Grey cigarettes dripped from our lips at the end of our whiskey sighs as we sat against the rain-stained feet of soviet buildings erected For Freedom. We never made out, or cradled each other's wet hair, but we had lots and lots of sex, before our skin had even warmed from the rain, before second thoughts could wedge themselves between us.

Only in the moments between the condom thrown across the room and the search for a boot's twin were we the puppies we should have been, soft puzzle pieces looking for a home between sharp hips and bruised ribs. If you stay still too long, though, the sky begins to spin. We never kissed goodbye, just crept through damp living rooms, over sleeping tube socks lit by 8-bit video games, out doors that never closed right.

We didn't have the whole world in our pockets, just tobacco crumbs and laundry balls that used to be coasters with the hopes of innocent boys carved into them. We found each other with smoke signals. If you want to disappear, it's easy: just don't look up. The boots looked good wet at the end of anyone's futon. It wasn't really a thing. And your name was just another sound to sing along to the radio, driving home through the swish of the wiper blades and the radio fuzz of the morning rain.

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