natalie

i see the tremble in his hand.

the voice, hoarse.
he's not well.

he's younger than i am, so it
worries me.

are you okay, i ask him.

not really he says, his cup
rattling in his hand as he moves
it slowly to his lips.

remember the time we were in
Georgetown,

it was cold and we waited
in line for an hour to get into
Winstons on M street,

and we met those girls from
Marymount? how we both wanted
to dance

with the same girl? what was
her name?

natalie? i say. brown hair,
blue eyes.

ah, he says. she was something,
wasn't she.