Running like a Woman with Her Hair on Fire

Lattes

69 LAttes After I had not seen you in a long time, We met at that coffee place near the bait shop. You said, “O you look so ...I like your...” I said, “I got them...you know that shoe store...” You said, “My mom and dad sold their...” The waitress said, “Who wants more coffee?” In the glistening daytime, our hands fluttered, we recalled that stretch of road in Fremont where a big-bellied sheriff almost gave you a ticket.You were respectful, said “Yessir” to him, and, when we got away, without trouble, told me you were scared of him. I didn’t believe it at the time, don’t now. I said, “I’m so glad you came.”A pause, then you upended the day—paralyzed it: “M”, you said, “what if all the bridges in all the world suddenly fell into the water below them on top of boats and ferries? What if they all fell at the same time.What would matter then? Would anything matter?” I thought of my glued-together life: the contracts I made, the slitted eyes of the office, my long skirts shuffling through the halls and studios, my manicured nails clicking on keys.What were all these if not bridges? “So what if they did?” I said. “There would be weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth and then, so what?”You nodded. 70 Silent, we relived the day’s meeting. “This weather is getting old,” I said. “I like you in blue,” you said.We looked over at a young black man just coming in, his hair in yard-long extensions, rings on all fingers.And then it was time to go and we were anxious to return to what usually kept us from each other. I drove away, seeing you in the mirror, As you bent down to look at something in the gravel of the parking lot. The sun looked odd, like it was shining through cheesecloth, and there was a bad taste in my mouth. Nearly there, I stopped at the side of the road and threw up. I wiped my lips with tissue, then drove on over the bridge to home. This page intentionally left blank. This page intentionally left blank. ...