The four bullets were ready. Chemicals. White, blue, green, orange. But she rearranges them because he’s actually supposed to be shot in the order white, green, blue, orange. The orange one tastes the nicest. The waiter passes by and warns that the white one’s rather strong.He shoots himself the wrong way around, orders another 4, shoots himself the right way around, then his eyes turn into lines, & his smiles are powered by chemical fruit all the way into the night.

She orders a drink which reminded me of an international rock band that named themselves after an 19th century Italian composer, and she sternly warns me never to mix wine with anything. But they order white & red when they were done. I stole a lot of tissues for her on intuition. She used them all later.

I walked barefoot in fast food. But I got to drive.

I can’t say what they were both thinking except maybe Mission Accomplished & the number 19, but my thoughts were full of theories, and stories, and imaginary situations like earlier earlier on when he was driving and she gushed over how dressed up the city trees were, all pretty and lit. She asked out loud, was it because someone’s coming? Who’s coming to town now, another VIP or emperor? Without missing a beat he said he’d strewn up those trees himself early in the day just for her. But he’s not very tall, so he got someone else to do the top. Why do you think I took so long to reply online? he says.

There were trees & lights down the entire street.

Instead of just fretting about the people and the road and the cars, we were mostly silent down that stretch, happy. My excuse was that I was in the backseat, imagining real people weaving lights into trees. I wondered if the men in the trees were doing it for anyone special to see. I wondered if the trees didn’t mind outlining the night road or if they just wanted to breathe peacefully in the dark. Maybe they didn’t mind. Maybe they were waiting for the sun to go down, and for friends & lovers to float down the street & dedicate the glow they wear to the glow romantics see in themselves.