Roy Marmelstein Conversation

"I don't know, I really don't know."
I say and smile.
She's not amused.
She just stands there looking at me.
Her eyes angry underneath the highlighted fringe.
She cuts it at Saks.
"Could you just tell me what this is all about?" I am too tired to pretend to be angry.
She sighs.
"Don't pretend like you don't know."
This is going nowhere.
I turn away and walk over to the window.
If I've done something wrong, I can't remember what it was.
I won't just apologise.
Through my translucent reflection, the city stretches out.
Red and yellow roads crossing through illuminated towers.
I know that somewhere people are having a normal conversation.
I wonder if I can see the studio on Google Earth.
I turn back and look at her.
She lounges atop the Chaise Longue, holding the half-empty champagne flute in a bored way.
Her evening dress casts an alluring shadow across her tanned legs.
She never looked more attractive.
Why do we have to do this?
I reach into my jacket and light another cigarette with the flick of a golden Zippo.
She mutters something inaudible.