Left work and headed home, stopped to see a friend whose birthday was yesterday. I gave him Light Years and Last Night, which I had tucked under my arm, puckered by the evening heat. Last year I gave him Barney Rosset's copy of The Devil in the Flesh. It wasn't too timely, though; I give gifts without an occasion (like the framed Muriel Spark photo I sent Maud). He once brought me a small box from Nice that is one of the few things I keep on my nightstand. Our easy talk turned to one night, before I left for two months, two summers ago, how he couldn't meet me to say goodbye, how sad we both were... and then I said, Baby, it worked out. We're here now. Tomorrow night we'll go out somewhere perfect, somewhere Salter-esque. French, he said. Or a hotel bar.
[Wyatt rose dress, less than $100 at Bluefly]
Windowlicker - from the French for window shopping: faire du lèche-vitrine - is more or less on summer hiatus, and will return in the fall.
Comments