She has an old gold digital watch and hair dyed blonde some months ago, and a wonderfully patterned rouge scarf, it's Paris after all. Denim jacket and doe eyes when I catch them. Her full lips parted for just a little teeth to show. She's beautiful. We're alone now in a familiar room, familiar now like an old dream on repeat, an old scene on repeat with different actors, similar do-overs, and a tap in her foot as she thinks of some new thing to feverishly write in her notes, we're racing now it seems. She's Italian.
"To the end of a brief episode
make it one for my baby
and one more for the road."
