Took a new client out to lunch today to celebrate the sale of her first novel. The Riesling was dry, the beets glazed with extra (extra!) virgin olive oil, and the waiter equal parts flirtatious and pretentious. This is the best part, being the straw, the slide, the spoon. Corner man. Fairy god. Icing. Cake. Saying one right thing. You’re hot shit. Watching a story turn into a snow storm. Spotting a nest in a high branch. Getting up at dawn. Weaving hay into gold. Sentences unfurled like mardi gras beads of gold. Tiny yellow patent leather shoes. A girl’s hot head dreaming on her pillow. The waiter brushing crumbs from the table.
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