She’s in a cafe on Abdullah Sokal,
just off the square.
Vinyl and Coffee.
Leonard Cohen.
Vinyl.
Edison bulbs on sleek black strings.
A place classier than my Black Dog hoodie recommends.
-
Jet black hair.
Pulled tight.
Pony tail.
Cashmere.
Those Nike sneakers they all wear
here in the rain.
Cheesecake. San Sebastian.
Piano.
-
Cat climbs a tree outside.
Nimble. Efficient.
Older Balkan lady refuses a third cup.
-
She maneuvers her dessert like an ancient relic.
Like she is in love with it.
Like it might walk away.
She regards me in the way I regard the cat.
-
I sip my coffee.
Chemex.
Barista steps outside.
Smokes.
-
She is suddenly at my table.
Sitting across.
“American?”, she asks.
“Yes.”
A pair of nervous smiles.
I look at the rotary phone on the counter.
Fifties crooner.
Vinyl and Coffee.
-
“I live in Tokyo.
Staying at Naumpasa.”
She nods toward the hotel across the narrow alley.
Broken English.
More nervous smiles.
-
The House of Super Step
is having a sale
on New Balance shoes.
-
Hotel California in vinyl.
I point to the store.
She points to her shoes.
Giggles.
-
Still not sure of her reasons.
Her mind is Tiffany twisted.
I'm dancing to forget.
I touch her hand.
Stand.
She remains seated.
Winks.
-
New Balance walking shoes for 1200 lira.
Great deal.