she tells me

"i can't drink
anymore, at least
not like i used to."
she lifts her
beer bottle to her
lips and turns it
up to the ceiling,
closing her eyes
until she gets the
last drop out.
"another?" she asks.
sure, why not, i tell
her it's only tuesday.
the week is young,
and we aren't. she
smiles at that, showing
me her cracked front
tooth. she taps her pack
of cigarettes on the
bar, but there's
no smoking now, and
she keeps looking
towards the door,
to see if the rain has
stopped so that she
can go out into the
night and grab a smoke.
"let's get some calamari,"
she says, "with hot
sauce. want to split
a dish of calamari
with me?" sure, i tell
her, why not and put
the order in with
the bartender."what
did you say your name
was?" she asks me,
sipping her new cold
beer. the foam dribbles
down her chin, which
she wipes off with
the back of her hand.
jimmy, i tell her. "don't
go anywhere jimmy, i
like you. you're cute.
i'll be right back,
hold onto my seat. i
need a smoke."
she slides down off
her barstool and puts
on her pink windbreaker
which has the word PINK
written in darker pink
across the back, and
lifts the hood over
her thin thatch of blonde
hair, she goes out into
the rain. i see her
standing against the wall,
cupping the cigarette in
her hand while she
stamps her feet and
shivers in the alley. i
can't help but wonder
at what the hell has
happened with my life,
and i whisper to the
bartender, asking if
the kitchen has a back door.