Hey friends,
Che cosa รจ in su?
of my Camel Light left
a sweet flavor on my lips –
like the honey-gold sand of Giza
crinkled underfoot when paced headlong
into the Egyptian sunset.
It’s always sunset in Egypt.
We gathered coins for kapparot
to atone for that night in October,
swung our sin into them
in exchange for a soft pack,
and smoked all but one.
I handed the cigarette
to that sultry brunette. She shared the night
air with me, far from crowd. She masked
the smoke with candy-flavored lip gloss,
the kind she wore on our first kiss.
She wears my green sweatshirt
as a life vest. I take a long sip of Newcastle
and let go of her hand.
In the hour of a heartbeat
I remember the Millennium
Bridge from the hotel room upon the Tyne:
city lights buzzing, glinting around the glowing arcs.
She and I never walked the streets
at night. Her nude silhouette danced in
and out of those arcs like the shadow
of a detached retina until
sunrise in London.
I turn back and peek
into a blacked out room:
pale flesh on pale flesh, each freckle beaming.
He is there – taking candy off her lips.
Then I walk away, leaving
the green sweatshirt to swim alone
on the hardwood floor.
That's all I've got for today. Happy holidays!
-Steph
