what's your sign

what's your sign
she asks as you sip on a tall
glass of vodka and tonic,
a slice of lime.
i'm on the cusp, you tell
her. pisces and aquarius.
I was born late at night.
so I pick and choose whatever
horoscope suits me for that
day. you can't do that she
says. you have to pick
one or the other.
i'm a scorpio, she says,
smiling grimly. you flinch,
remembering that your ex-wife
was a scorpio.
you prepare yourself to be
slapped, ready to block
anything she throws at
you. i'm very passionate
she say, taking your hand
in hers and pulling on a
finger until the knuckle
cracks. you say ouch,
then pull your hand away.
scorpio?
yes. do you have a problem
with that?
no, not at all. I can do a
chart for you, she says.
I can tell you who you are,
everything about your past
your future and it will
be exact. the planets are
in a good place for us
this time of the year,
this time of the millennium.
cool, you say. very cool. look,
I have to go use the bathroom,
but i'll be right back,
you tell her, getting up,
grabbing your keys,
your phone, your hat.
you finish your drink
in one long gulp. be right back.
carefully you push a trashcan
up to the window in the bathroom
and crawl out,
but there she is waiting for you,
laughing under the full moon.
did you think you were going
to leave me without a kiss
she says. not a chance.