1. Wednesday, August 28, 2002

    she was twenty six 

    life is like riding a bicycleeducated, funny, well spoken, perfect body, perfect lips, very little makeup, just a hint of perfume,

    couldn’t figure out what brand.

    hottest cab driver i had ever had the pleasure

    thought for a moment that it might be a set up.

    after a minute didn’t care if it was.

    “what do you like in a woman?” she asked after i gave her my address and she raised an eyebrow. the bars had closed hours ago, even the rats had called it a night. street cleaners were waking the bums.

    false dawn brought out premature chirps from the sparrows in the palm trees and the traffic lights just flashed red black red black

    red.

    “me.”

    the streets were wet and shiny like a movie directed by that guy who did top gun. so many people take the freeways in la at all hours, why wasn’t anyone on vermont i thought and then couldn’t think, the whole thing was spinning, and not in a good way.

    i could feel every bump and there were bunch.

    popped some tylenol. didn’t have anything to wash it down with, didn’t matter, the saliva was filling my throat.

    the wet carpet was being rolled out for the puke, but i just had some mighty good steaks that i wasn’t about to revisit so i thought of better things.

    ice cream.

    one summer i was an icecream man in the suburbs of chicago.

    i was in love with a girl named tracy degrazia.

    her boyfriend was named george.

    i realized i wasn’t thinking these thoughts but i was telling the beautiful cab driver.

    i must be drunk, i don’t tell people the truth.

    “what made you love her?”

    it was love at first sight. first time that ever happened to me. we were on a bus going to iowa to visit a school out there where they only make you take one class a month. really small school. really long bus ride. really terrific girl.

    smelled like baby powder.

    mcdonalds drive thru claiming to be open twenty four hours made me curious. perhaps one of those new fancy shakes would help.

    can i get you a cup of coffee, or a shake, i asked my cab driver.

    i would love a cup of coffee.

    do you really live where im taking you?

    strangely the drive through was indeed open. the tylenol was kicking in. bless you tylenol three.

    the lady spoke spanish. the cab driver goddess spoke spanish right back.

    where did you learn that? i asked.

    spain.

    sometimes everything makes sense and then it all falls apart again like those bridges you make with folded notebook paper in sixth grade science class or how you can lift people by just using your fingers in a seance, or how a 757 can take off from a runway and fly through the friendly skies

    and before i knew it i was barfing all over the bullhorn squawk box of the drive through laughing and messing up my green suede low top pumas whose swoosh had been made from the remnants of a leather gucci purse. guess you’d have to see it.

    was handed a paper towel, wiped off, fell back in the cab.

    laughed, god did i laugh.

    pulled forward to the second window.

    received my mcflurry.

    somehow made it home, once again,

    alone.