Dance: I was with two others outside on the steps, buzzed, dressed in a navy polo and beard. You came and asked for a drag, which I gave up right away. You had me light it for you. You stood around with us. 

No, I didn’t cut out anything.  

You were staggering outside the club, mate. Drunk-ish. Alone.  

By the time of the fourth revision the poem was lost. That’s what I want, not what the poem wants.