Friday February 11, 2005
	Starbucks Coffee, in the International Plaza shopping mall, Tampa.
	"Sorry I'm late," I say then sitting. "That's quite alright," she says then smiling.  "I just got here myself." There's a nifty circular shaped water fountain next to our table so I smile and then say:  "Great seat." "I've missed you," she says. "I saw Pam Iorio on the second level," I say.  "She was shopping." "Who's that?" she says. "Tampa mayor," I say.  "I liked her 'til I read she didn't visit with Bush when he came to town." "I'd like a Caramel-Macchiato," she says then smiling. "That's a pretty purse," I say.  It ain't pretty.  It ain't pretty at all.  It's a typical gigantic, huge, oversized American purse with a designer name and big price tag.   "It's a hobo bag," she says then pushing it my way.  "Bloomingdale's." "Real nice purse," I say.  A few years ago I would've had the balls to tell her that I wasn't now or have not ever been interested in purses and instead of pretending to admire the craftsmanship we would have headed back to my car and I would have propped her designer purse under her butt and I would have made love to her while my KC & The Sunshine Band cassette tape played. A young mother seated at the table to my left is talking (loudly) to her two boys:    "Taylor honey, mommy wants you to use toilet tissue to wipe off the excess urine from your dinky when you're done peeing." "Tobin, men and women are exactly alike." A moment passes at which point I lean forward toward my date and say: "Why kind of a woman would name boys Taylor and Tobin?" My date leans toward me and says: "I'd just love a Caramel-Macchiato." After a pause I steer our conversation back onto something safer and say: "It that a built-in cell phone pocket?  I like purses with cell phone pockets."   My mother owned an off brand plastic purse for sixteen and a half years and bought another one only because the bottom fell out while she was standing in line at a White Castle Hamburger stand in Detroit, Michigan. "I'll get you a Caramel-Macchiato," I say then standing.   "I've missed you," she says smiling again then answering her ringing cell phone (which she removes from the cell phone pocket). The person she misses is gone. "Cell phone pockets in purses just make good sense," I say sounding like a flirtatious salesman. "They do," she says then putting the phone to her ear. I believe I saw the shoes she's wearing at the Neiman Marcus store.  They're Valentino pumps with open toes and tiny bows and they're pink and made of napa leather.  I know this only because I enjoy looking at myself in the Neiman Marcus full length mirrors. We drank our Caramel-Maccchiato's and I talked and she talked and once while she was talking I imagined the cardboard insulating sleeves (used to prevent burns while holding the coffee cup) pushed onto each of her breasts. Printed on the sleeve: CAREFUL, THE BEVERAGE YOU'RE ABOUT TO ENJOY IS EXTREMELY HOT. PREVIOUS   HOME   NEXT