(no subject)
high stools, dirty glasses, i lean over to watch her. he asks for proof and i have none. we turn around. two women wrap themselves in russian, cigarette smoke, a corner, wasted time. i keep dreaming train tracks; lives getting cheaper. i keep spilling my suitcase, keep on, dreaming train tracks for travel.
i lean over to watch her, she puts on red heels red lips and leaves them all behind. the lights get lower their lives like loose change (cheaper, cheaper). their heads turn with her on a dime. i am twice exposed, twice the time it takes. this is the moment that comes. no one here has forgotten their first love or last night alone. no one here has given up scratching her story out of their skin. high stakes,
high hopes. she reminds you of your mother, doesn't she. lost religion ? no, she reminds you of a poster, a cover of a magazine. never mind. the light is filled with her red drained of all else but the stale shadow, still you don't remember who was here, still this is the time. all the girls look to the ceiling & tap their heartbeats on the table & all the men know morse code but won't use it.