There is some stale chocolate in gold foil
on the night table, and a can of Coca Cola
beside it. It’s so quiet here, I can hear the
carbonation. Meanwhile, I think about downstairs,
three flights away, the lights off,
and the bottle of Pinot Grigio in the fridge,
clear as water, that I meant to drink today,
and before that, yesterday. I just want you
to know this, so that you understand
the kind of man you’re dealing with,
and that it’s also three flights back again.