The Heart. It is a lonely Hunter.

"Caress the divine details."

-Nabokov

I'm sitting on the back patio of a cafe. The fence posts are painted sticky fingerpaint blue, except for the section in the corner. Green. Almost pukey but not offensive. And there's also a deer/ sort of camel looking creature painted on that part too. All of the chairs have a different color. Blue, yellow, red, grey,white. They are a perfectly clashing zoo. There are two ladies sitting by me now. I chose the table with the umbrella. There's an entire patio. Like.. maybe seven or eight tables but they chose the one right next to me. I think it's because of the umbrella. Or maybe just the fact that humans like to be in clusters. The woman sitting closest to me has been cats-cradling her cigarette for at least eighteen minutes. More often than not, drifty smoke like that irritates me. But because I'm in the shade and because today is a hot, August, dry day, the curling tail rolling my direction doesn't bother me . I like watching it. It slows me down like a lazy caterpillar.

The other lady has been on her phone the entire time. Except for when her friend brought her an iced coffee at the beginning. I think she's from Chicago. She's talking about "the damn kids" and she's telling this guy, I'm pretty sure he's a guy, that Steve's got the biggest beefiest hands of anyone she's ever known. She just got back. Buried her brother in Turkey and she's pissed, PISSED, that she only got two general admissions to the Mile High Concert. After doing all that PR, that was it. For fuck sake. She's probably going to fly to Italy this month, but she's back to last Wednesday now. She was in the middle of a "fucking Woody Allen movie." She spent the whole day sobbing because someone lost her brother's ashes. But they got through it. Her and her mom. She really misses this guy. I'm sure his name is Jet or something like... Clay or Jay maybe. Heavy. But moldable. He's from Taos. It's beautiful down there.

I've never been.

She's ganna send him the name of the guy that plays the bass. YO-zel. She swears by him. Ooooo, she swears by HIM. It's that kind where you hear ONE note. You're there. Ya know? One note. I just peaked and she's wearing bright yellow sandals. They match her voice brilliantly. For some reason I'm reminded that J.D. Salinger died this year.

She works for the Outlook. It's a paper here? She's ganna put her foot down. GIVE ME A MONDAY OR TUESDAY. Her name is Honey. Perfect.

Well yeah, she tells him. This is the worst weekend of the year. All the parents are in town getting rid of their happy drunk kids. No hotels.

Love you sweetie. She loves him. Bye Jimmie.

A "J". I was close.