“Can a spa
come to me,
Limo Guy,
Limo Guy?”
“What’s a
spa?” asks
the Guy
in the
driver’s
seat of
the Limo
in which
I can’t
under
stand
why
I am
sitting.
“Okay,
okay,”
I say,
“I will
play
your
game.
Please,
I am
yours,”
I say
staring
out at
the un
familiar
stretch
of wet
street
and
side
walk.
“Take
me
there,
then,” I
give in.
