A piano floats past my fedora. Cradled in thick brown ropes, it is being hoisted into a window on the 20th floor of my apartment building. A hairy cigar mouth screams, “to the right, to the right.” He’s got a yellow hardhat on with scuff marks on the side. The piano is a baby grand. Slick black like shoe polish, I can see my reflection in it. The sides of the piano curve like a bow, making my body appear cut in half. My top half slides to the right while my legs fade over to the left. “Hey idiot, get away from here,” grumbles the cigar mouth. He has a face like an old parking lot. Lines and pot holes thick deep in mud. Hairs growing between the cracks – a neglected landscape. The parking lot opens up – “are you dumb! Move!” I turn and walk away. Like a hardhat would save him from a falling piano anyhow. I continue down the main street. Polonius’ train should arrive in half an hour and I’m walking to Purg station to meet her there. I don’t live far, and I figure she’ll be hungry when she gets off the train, so we’ll try out one of the ethnic places around here. I can’t remember if she is vegetarian or hates vegetarians. I’ll skirt the issue and take her to this indian place i've been wanting to chutney. I figure if she has a problem with it she'll tell me.
Now I stand outside of the station suckling a cigar. I am still, in a dark corner where most of the payphones line the building wall. A field of discarded gum in various pastel colours grips the boulevard. Like holding the old road together. I begin to count the blobs. A pink high heel steps onto number twenty, a lime green bit that was most likely mint flavored. It’s Cassidy. She dyed her hair black, and if I hadn’t had noticed hr legs first, I probably wouldn’t have noticed her at all. I pretend I don’t notice that it is her anyhow.
“Hello asshole,” she says to me. Now I have to say something. I like the blonde better. She looks rice-cake pale. The black hair is so black it’s blue in the sunlight. Maybe it’s a wig. I shut my eyes and wish she would go away. I take a drag from my cigar and blow out an “oh hi" with the smoke.
“Yeah, the hair I know. I have a small part in a mftv movie. Supernatural crime drama. I play a moonlight vampire and,” she pauses and steps to the right. I’m looking over at a firehydrant. Red red.
“what’s an mftv?” I ask.
“You know, made-for-tv movie. Anyhow, you wanna look at me when I talk? Talking to you is like talking to a lamppost. I might as well have a conversation with your jacket, what’d you call it, Kryptonite or something?”
I grab my colar and hunch into my shoulders, “It’s Midnight." I continue to count the blobs. Cassidy is thin except for this weird bulge under her neck. She’s going to have jowls when she’s older. Old bone rack with a waggling jaw.
“Anyways, I’m seeing this guy. Maybe you’ll find someone if you act like you give a shit. You didn’t even crack a smile when you peaked! I feel sorry for you, really.”
She huffs away.
I blow more smoke.
