Light Up My Life

Sylvie was flighty, losing her pocketbook, glasses, cell phone – something – every time she came back from one of those lab visits that paid for her rent.  “I can’t hold onto anything,” she said in mock horror.

More horrifying was when she lost an arm on the West Side and her torso was found in the Bronx.

We met while I was working at a coffee house on Avenue B.  She referred vaguely to her job at a university uptown, but then always changed the subject.


That was the summer of 2003.  The temperature topped a hundred degrees by August.  A guy could get murdered for saying, “Hot enough for you?”  As the temperature rose, so did my obsession with her.

Sylvie’s last name was Lumière, and she became — literally — the light of my life.  I called our affair “tsunami passion.”  She washed into my life on the heat wave, coming into the coffee bar one morning to chill over an iced latte.  Quite the hot shot at that time, I smooth-talked her into dinner and a concert in the park.

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)