The night flourished as a mistake does. Rich with dirty boots, always a smile affixed. Upon this stage everything I will tell you will only be forgotten in part or in whole. That is the one thing I can promise. So let me tell you about Aurelia. Or rather I’ll let Aurelia tell you of herself. That street corner. I was standing, looking skyward, pondering whether I should return to the bar I had just passed, minding my own business in the kind of way a John Berryman poem does, when she arrived, put her arm around me, plundered my gaze, and promptly asked me if I’d discovered another planet. We crossed the road to the next bar. Plantation Pineapple Old-fashioneds ensued. She had chained her bike up back at the last bar and left it for the night. A waitress, with a devastating crush on a colleague. Unrequited desire, so it seemed. She told me I had a Mi Goreng noodle personality. Interesting, probably good soul food, but hardly a sustainable source of nutrition. I believe I suggested she was a touch Thallium in nature. She then handed me something. A poem written on the back of a napkin that is now lost to history. Scribed in such a hand only an alien could possess. The basic upshot being to discover who one really is, to play the cards you’re dealt. I immediately envisioned that pack of cards with Starry Sky Attempt on their backs. I’m playing poker against myself and three or four other clones. The food around the table is some sort of Thai-fusion. I lose my whole chip-stack to myself, leave the table. The next morning I must make for the train at an early hour, desperately hungover. I’m unsure about all things, but least of all the universe itself. I know I saw her. I’m certain of it. I saw her in the hallway. In the yawning streetlight through the bedroom window. Waltzing with me down the wedding aisle. Promenading through a battlefield. Sitting on the toilet, pissing, with her underwear by her ankles as I shower in the same room. And mostly walking away from me that night. A fading grace. More potently idyllic for having done so. A swagger in her gait. At the station I find the napkin in my pocket. I read it once more, throw it in the bin.

I board the train.