the russian

tiny cheekbones, shiny eyes. a wrinkled navy boy scout shirt. you told me stories of working the coal mines in ukraine as your smile bored a hole into my head. you were late so i smoked a cigarette outside lulu's. once inside you scored free apple martinis, touched my knee under the table, told me about your band. the bar emptied quickly, no time to hear your jukebox selections. with a flick of your wrist you dumped half a shot of jaeger into each red bull. we raised the silver cans and you gently grabbed my skin, put your lips on mine, then swallowed down your drink. i looked you over carefully - tufts of dark hair, vintage blazer. lost in the spanish streets of hollywood we didn't have much to say. you found me hiding against a mirrored wall. it gave me away but i protected myself the second time around. i can't believe i almost let you in. i blame the comedown, the almost-high, the crackling heat drifting off melrose and fairfax at 4 a.m.