Ask The Angels

November 15, 2003

"What are you looking for, Jamie?" she asked.

I laughed, "You're kidding, right?"

"No, I mean, seriously, I mean what do you want?"

"Who knows? Ask the angels."

"Huh?"

"Nevermind"

"What would make you happy?"

"I don't know. I'm just trying to stay flexible."

She brushed the hair out of her eyes and tilted her head. Reached out for the empty pack of cigarettes on the table and looked inside for the third time.

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"I mean, I don't want to be so blinded by the things I think I want that I miss the surprises."

She shook the empty pack in her hand a few times before putting it back down in the puddles and ashes.

"Yeah," she said and stirred her melting ice cubes with a chewed red straw.

"I worry about you sometimes," she said.

"Me? What are you worried about me for?"

I tilted my head down, trying to see her eyes. She shrugged, put the straw in her teeth, and looked up.

"Don't worry about me," I said. "It's the ones who know what they want that you have to look out for."