your server was em w.

I ordered it in the tall red glass. Table for one. Her tiny hand placed it in front of me. And she smiled, like a nymph, a seraph, a tiny siren, sent to tease me. I wanted to talk to her, more than just thank you and I don’t need anything else. But I didn’t. Her smile kept coming. And at the end, the check. Your server was Em W. Em W.

red

I could hear the sound of spinning. He asked me to pick a color. I was terrified of losing but picked red. Please let it be a winner, pressure was no friend of mine. And then I leaned in too close, pressing my groin against his hand as it rested on the side of the table. I felt him take a deep breath, followed by a large swallow of whatever he was drinking. He then looked down at me. He smiled. He hadn’t noticed but the tiny orb had landed. Blood red.

beyond ballroom

The party was going strong in the other room. I say room, but it was more ballroom than anything. I was on my way back down and saw lights strain into the foyer. The stairs were clothed in shadow and I slipped down the winding way quietly. And before I reached the bottom I noticed her. As she floated in the candles flickered and bathed her silhouette in a dark, sweet ochre. She looked up at me and smiled. I smiled back at her and met her at the bottom step. The air became a third person, filled with music and fragrance; it intoxicated us both. This is a beautiful house, she said with a silly grin, her champagne glass swaying in hand. Beautiful, I responded. And we both stood there, much too close, grinning at each other as the candlelight danced around us. The ballroom suddenly seemed very far away and I found myself in her arms. She had started to kiss me. It was the most unexpected thing. But the moment I tasted her mouth, I couldn’t stop wanting more of it. The ballroom, I knew, we’d never make it back there.

untitled

I pulled into my driveway. It was dark, the streetlights painted the line of houses in an orange glow. The air was cool and sharp. I could feel the sparks. I stepped out of my car to retrieve a newspaper that was lying in the grass. And I heard music. The Star Spangled Banner. It was coming from somewhere. It was as if I was in a dark, misty opera. And the entire street was my stage. I looked around but couldn’t pinpoint the source, only the direction and vaguely. I felt the night’s darkness close in around me. The song played boldly. The air was orange. The air was sharp.

the break

Four walls and a dingy floor. Three tables and a Coke machine. One sink and two microwaves. It’s the saddest looking breakroom. Others are reading, texting, eating. But she isn’t. She’s lost in thought. I wonder what she’s thinking about.

A wasp flies into view and perches itself on the white cupboard above the sink. She rises and moves toward the little beast, pausing to pick up an abandoned magazine. After folding it into a cylindrical weapon she swats the bug, down it goes. It lands on the countertop with a crispy –tink!-. She brushes it into the waste basket and walks back to her seat. And as she sits, she laughs at something. I laugh with her, but not where she can hear. Somebody claps briefly and she flashes them a nod and a grin. Then off she goes, back into her thoughts. What are they about, I wonder. What are they about?

man of steel

I walk in and it looks like a crime scene. Blood everywhere. On the floor, soaking the pillow that hangs over the green chair, blossoming on the sheet underneath him. I keep my cool and smile at him. He is reclining, his left arm slung over his head and he speaks. Dear God, why has this happened. I tell him how impressed I am with his courage and then I start cleaning. Trying to get rid of the blood. What good are nurses if they won’t take care of their patients? And then a joke from him breaks my concentration. He’s laughing. He can’t not be a superman. I almost cry, not from pain but from pride. The same blood that’s been spilled all over this room also runs through my veins. I smile with him.

october

The window was open. He was naked, except for dirty torn blue jeans. He was looking out the window and his hands were on the windowsill. His back was facing me. The sheets were white and I could smell clover. The autumn breeze blew in. I blew a smoke ring and he laughed at something. The neighbors were hammering and a car peeled out below. He turned around to face me and sat on the window ledge.
Vegas, he said.
Vegas. I smiled.