I Am the Messenger

She gives me a last endearment. "Well, thanks for the lift, Ed. And don't worry so much. Enjoy yourself, all right, sweetie?"

"No worries."

When she walks away, I imagine her turning back around and saying, "Could you come and pick me up in the morning, Ed?"

But she doesn't.

She's gone.

Alice doesn't live here anymore.

Watching her all the way to the doors of the hotel, I'm sitting in the cab, alone.

Behind me, a car blows its horn in abuse, and a man roars out the window. "Get moving, cabbie!"

He's right. We're useless.

Driving through the night, I imagine Alice turning into Sheeba. I hear her voice and smell it in the dimly lit hotel room overlooking Sydney Harbor.

"That okay, sweetie?"

"Oh, honey...."

"Yes, darlin', that's it, right there, sugar, keep going."

I see myself beneath her.

Being taken and made love to.

I feel her.

Know her.

Taste her champagne mouth.

Ignore the ugly teeth.

Just shut my eyes and taste her.

Touch her naked skin.

The skivvy on the floor.

The vest next to us.

The boots forgotten--triangled near the door.

Feel me in her.

"Oh," she says, breathless, "Ed, oh, Ed." I get lost in it. "Oh, Ed...."

"Red!" the guy in the backseat screams at me.

I hit the brakes hard.

"Christ, mate!"

"Sorry."