mohawk-guy a misplaced token identity stared at me as a i left the bathroom , pins and needles clipped on his denim jacket , he was old school and i was confused , was his moral compass really already formed , these punk ideas so ingrained , so assured he would come to a synth electronic show , a girl probably involved , i was over the moment but his staring at me , not with anger but with wonderment , a deer on the side of the road , a witness to the driving disaster that had just happened , not knowing whether to approach or stare , no hard cap just soft malleable punk hearts , maybe he had come in here to offer me solace , a word of encouragement -- that was so chill , he said .