City Lights

City Lights

by Jack Wilson

Damn! Forgot the number. The ad said to call first, then we'd meet nearby. Where am I going? What the hell did I do with that newspaper anyway? I thought I had it in my overcoat pocket. Too much of a hurry, don't even know which direction to head.

She hinted that she would pay some in advance. Just what I need. And I can do the job, I know I can. The guys at the gym will want to buy me a beer after this one. Where can I find another copy of that paper?

--Hey Newsy, you got a Chronicle? No, no. it's gotta be a Chronicle. There, that's it. Now, page 27 I think... Ah.

"Hello, hi, say, uh, about your ad... Yeah? City Lights Bookstore? 4:30. I'll be there."

4:19. Plenty of time. Cable car took me right there. What did she say she was going to be wearing? Blue coat, stripes. Ah, there she is. "Hi, are you Elisabeth? Okay, good, here I am. Yeah, you're early too. Um, uh, you want a cup o' tea?" (I always carried a Thermos of tea and some plastic cups).

Elizabeth and I stood close together behind the display window of Ferlinghetti retro stuff sipping warm tea and talking for about 15 minutes. It was agreed. Tomorrow I would rid her of the pest for a big bundle of cash, half now, half later. She turned, laid a brown envelope on the book table, pushed it slowly toward me with what seemed to me an intimate glance, cinched up her blue striped coat and started toward the door.

The UPS truck skidded slowly over the white fire hydrant, demolished the trashcan on the sidewalk and trundled right on through the multi-paned wood-and-glass window. Elisabeth was beyond all help and I was left as you see me now.

End