The man had sung Escape on the karaoke stage with such conviction it really did bowl her over and she wanted to hear that song like that all over again immediately just like that all crooned and filled with bathos like the way he did it with such courage and splendor and a touch of sadness but she got shy when the man slipped by her table almost nudging her with a hip unaware of her adoration and she sat there and nursed her Corona and she didn’t make eye contact or anything like that and she wanted to order a piña colada but she couldn’t muster the gumption so she thought of Lake Tahoe at sunset instead and a fireplace to keep her warm at night or maybe dreamt of brighter ways to spend her time like watching garbage trucks wince and moan through the early morning streets all dripping with fog-melt but then the KJ barked her name and butchered it as usual and so she gathered her insufferable notions of who she was to others and poofed up her hair and smoothed her dress some and limped and hobbled her way to the stage where she removed the mic from the stand with much bravado and pomp and began to softly sing, “If you like piña coladas…call (646) 851–0347.”

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