the layers of heat and smoke in the room mock the layers of cold and fog out on the street.
with each step my boots stick and softly rip away from the floor as i make my way through the sea of bodies to the little table against the wall.
on the stage, the man she loves is giving voice and rhythm to his poetry, gentle and fierce, full of joy.
the music and the crowd drown out our voices, but lifetimes speaking the secret language of girl friendship allow us to understand every word we say to each other.
later, homeward bound, we cross the bridge and slow the car to look back at the city.
like our young selves, it’s lit up in the distance, golden and complicated and spectacular and one-of-a-kind.
