i have a girlfriend who likes to go downtown
when the sky is thick and black as the forgotten espresso
on the counter of our favorite all-night café.

she puts on her black, wooly shawl and says
"darling, it is an evening for gypsies and whores".
she shakes the dust from her leather boots and i
am left to wonder which of those is me.

i decide not to ask.

she notices my silence and laughs aloud. her
long dark hair parts like a velvet curtain, offering
a spectacle of ivory fascination before the grateful masses.
we are unaccustomed to beauty.

i travel at her side, trembling.
we walk the path of the tomcat and the junkie,
the path of lost children and other disposables.
she sings of Mexican moons and boys for pélé.

every time i hope she will forget.
but every time she asks me, "do you remember the words?".
and although i feel like a fool, i tell her i do.
she smiles and tells me that this time,
i will want to remember everything.

then she touches my hand, and i know i can never leave her.
i will play any game she wants.

- may 2001