There's a chance we never met. I see him often - we're practically neighbors - but his face is a ghost and it changes with the clouds. A city face.

It began in a deli by Bleecker Street between fluorescent aisles of cleaning detergent, Twinkies and frozen pizza. His eyes were dark and he looked about forty-five. I felt bratty, worn, and altogether in the mood for cheap attention. The night had been tough and I wouldn't be home for at least two hours.
A pack of Marlboro Reds, please, and a lighter. Anything, sir, to quench this fury.
I looked back to the ceiling and matched his furtive gaze. He was well-dressed, very handsome, and though I'd never met him before his stare was familiar. I headed west towards a park on Tenth Avenue to smoke sorrows with black men dressed as leggy, redheaded brides. I could feel him close behind, the sense of him. The crunch of hard leather on dirty concrete.
Don't walk out, not after all this. Stay. Please. Shout a little more.

I sat on a bench near the gate and watched matching streams of white and red light fly past in jagged slow motion. The city felt industrial, sturdy, and the smoke from my cigarette mirrored the plumes of gas across the river. I was safe, finally, and my head was afloat. Wine that had earlier fueled chaos and shattered toes now touched my eyes, calmed my face and made the breeze seem warm. I heard footsteps and the sound of a man sitting on the bench next to mine.
How old is he?
About eight months. He's a purebred.
He's gorgeous.
The architect's stare was hungry and full of hope. I might have called it desperate if the light had been better, slutty even, but in the soft glare of traffic and a dim moon I could only smile. He looked to the ground and started fidgeting, the dog started growling, and I lit another cigarette. We talked about Meir and Ghery, about London Terrace, about where he went to school and about how he loves imagining skyscrapers. He pointed at the smudged silhouette of downtown Manhattan and said: see, that one, there - that's mine.
Can I help you?
Can you help me? Can I help you! A puff, friend, if you please!

Queen Elizabeth's voice was deep and he stared at me with a countenance of bright doom. He was magnificent - all white lace, red leather, and stockings so high they touched the clouds. A virgin bride turning the city's filth into feathers and pink fluff. His finger was a long cane wrapped in tape and it traced circles in the air around my face, and with his hands flapping by his mouth like the bill of an unearthly duck he proclaimed in Latin that tonight the world would end and that tomorrow would be all cherries and tobacco.
So you see, friend, why I need a good fag! A fine fag! A hard fag!
The architect didn't notice the Queen, or if he did his head didn't turn. He was facing me, half-bent, and his cheeks were wet. Why are you sad? He told me his bed feels empty, that money doesn't help, and that sometimes he wishes he could sleep forever. Outside, in the air, surrounded by his work and by the noise. We didn't talk about the deli, or about his ring, or about how very nervous I suddenly felt. Neither of us said anything when he stood up from his bench and sat down beside me.
His fur is magnificent. So shiny. What a good boy.
Do you have a dog?

Our hands must have touched because I remember him telling me my skin was soft. How old are you? I remember Queen Elizabeth swaying to the tune of his own heels and tripping on a crack in the crooked cement. God damnit! Did you see my lashes? I remember the smell of his hair, the strange intimacy, and the look in his eyes the moment he disappeared.
It was a look that said: Help.
Hold My Hand.
Sit With Me And Show Me Your Soul.
It might also have said: Piss on me. Whip me with your belt. Break my knees and punch me in the gut! But the look was fleeting and the night dark, full of distraction, talk, and mixed up color. And even now when I see him in the street his brown eyes seem to change from blue to green, his face is always a little more handsome, or less, and he always smiles, or nods, or waves, but then blinks once and disappears.
[Click to continue reading...]
[Back to summary...]