We are always concocting a woman to throw things into discord when otherwise we have nothing to say.  So I recall seeing her on the subway before actually meeting her.  She had earbuds in, leaning next to her friend, black hair and delicate, narrow eyes.  I was reading Post Office, enjoying myself, looking up over the book at those mean little creases.

Later we met at a party.  “You’re making a weapon,” I said.  It was a Christmas party and she had worked a candy cane down to a dangerous point.

Photo on 2-21-13 at 1.31 PM #3

I recall standing with her on a subway platform.  She had a big suitcase and important things going on.  It was a cold morning, yellow pale rooftops ahead and behind.

“You’ll always be that guy,” she said, “reading Bukowski on the subway.”  I took that news as well as I could.