THE WEEKLY INCIDENT

the weekly incident
every Saturday night
I stand outside the door
to the bar
where I work
spitting on the sidewalk
and looking up and down the street
checking out chicks
and watching for stumblers
every Saturday night
without fail
around nine PM
I see a brown skinned
little girl
speed across the opposite street
and disappear again
she’s always dressed in black
matching her long black hair
her eyes are dark brown
and her smile is broad
and I always think, “hey,
look at that cutie. What a babe!”
and just as I begin to wonder
who she is
whether or not I’ve seen her around
she turns to me
and gives a quick little wave
and I wave back and think,
“shit, I know that girl.”
and the reason I know her
is because I slept next to her
for two and half years
we shared rent
a bed
a television
and a dog
until it all went down in flames
and I fled the country
for seven months
to put enough space between us
but still
I can’t help but wonder
what she thinks
every Saturday
as she walks past and waves
on her way to another night’s work