sophisticated lady.

[physiognomy]

The smoke hung thick in the air, smelling of cigars and talcum powder. She breathed it in like it was as fresh as a crisp summer morning, letting a too-coy smile crimp its way onto her lips, painted red. Her voice was sweet and husky, head canted to lean toward the mic. "This is the last song of the night, all you jazz cats and kittens. Been a pleasure singin' for you tonight. I'd like to close with the Queen of Scat -- god rest that woman's soul. Thank you."

The dim stage lights highlighted the blue of her eyes, flaring off of her well cut black dress (low in the front, coiling at her heels which sat on the first rung of the stool) and shadowed the small band behind her. Beringed fingers wrapped around the mic stand, pulling it toward her lips as she sang.

"They say into your early life romance came
And in this heart of yours burned a flame
A flame that flickered one day and died away
Then, with disillusion deep in your eyes
You learned that fools in love soon grow wise
The years have changed you, somehow.."




Backstage a man prowled by the curtains, watching but hardly listening as she sang. An old black man with a faded fedora watched him, chuckling deep. "One more song ain't gonna kill ya, cat. She got herself a pretty voice. The cats here like her, ya dig? She never hurt nobody."

"I don't care." He looked back at the dim stage again, as if he half expected her to run up and escape again. "She just left, El. Fuckin' up and left, I didn't even know she was still in the city until today. She didn't even leave a note. That ain't right. She hurt me." He prodded his own chest to emphasis his point, not looking away from where he could see the woman.

"She gonna mess your head up if you come bargin' in like this, man. You just give her some time. She'll come back."

"I'm tired of giving her time."



"I see you now
Smoking, drinking, never thinking of tomorrow, nonchalant
Diamonds shining, dancing, dining with some man in a restaurant
Is that all you really want?"




"She's a free spirit, Mike. She's a real feral queen, you ain't gonna tame her like this."

"She'll see my way, El. She'll remember she loves me. Fuck. Does a year and a half mean absolutely nothing to her? Does anything matter to her?"

"The music does."

"Fuck the music, El."



"No, sophisticated lady,
I know, you miss the love you lost long ago
And when nobody is nigh, you cry."

She closed her eyes a moment, soaking in the smells and sounds, the few loyal patrons offering a quiet, but respectful applause. She smiled, her eyes lost in a bedroom hood and her voice long gone. "Thank you." The lights cut and she went off the stage to meet the storm of Michael head on. "Hey, kitten."

He pushed near here, not bothering to restrain his voice. "Kitten? Kitten? Where the fuck have you been, Vi? I thought you were killed or something."

She patted his chest with a smile and slid past him toward her dressing room. "El? Can you call me a cab, sweets? Thanks."

"Sure, Miss Vi." The old man amble off as she responded to Mike. "Just needed some time to think, that's all."

He followed her, pushing through the backstage crowd. "About what? What's there to think about?"

"About getting married."

"Shit, are you getting cold feet already? It's over a month away."

A month of freedom. "Don't know what to tell you, kitten." She rolled her shoulders before moving into the dressing room and shutting the door, even as he spoke.

"Well, what? Do you want to talk? What the hell am I saying, of course you don't. You never want to talk, Vi."

She shoved the door open into his chest and walked toward the back exit. "That's because you think everyone's plotting against you, kitten." She slowed down when she arrived at the streetside, the cab just beginning to pull out. Slowly, Vi turned toward Mike. "I'm not gonna be needing this, kitten. Take care." From her hand, she took the engagement ring and placed it in his shirt pocket. There were no goodbyes. She stepped in the yellow taxi and sped off, leaving him dumbfounded. It was a look, she decided, that she was well accustomed to over the years.

[physiognomy]

"Did he call you at all?"


"He doesn't know where I am, honey."


"Does anyone?"


"Besides you and El? No. And keep it that way."


Vi stood, deeming that the mini interrogation was over as she crossed the dirty carpet towards the bathroom. The girl, hands on her hips and elbows jutting out, watched her like a hawk until the bathroom door shut. She was a thin thing, but full of fire and life, something that kept a balance to Vi's own passiveness. "What about the club? Are you still gonna sing there?"


"No, Sarah. Mike'll be looking for me. But El said he'd hook me up with a new place to sing at around here. He's a sweet little cat."

The sound of the shower being turned on signalled that the conversation was now truly over. Sarah scowled and fell back onto the bed, wrapping her arms and around her legs.


Vi had been living in the small hotel room for over a week now, filling out applications for temporary jobs just to pay the rent. As it would turn out, a small diner on 5th street called her back about her application, and as of tomorrow she would be a waitress. Vi had no complaints to that. A job was a job.


She had found a tavern that she had taken up refuge in to soak her alcoholic's tongue in brandy and gin. It seemed to be a popular spot; she was hoping that, if she got lucky, she'd find some connections that would help her out. Vi had a feeling she was going to be here to stay.

[physiognomy]

This town is full of pretty people. I feel like tarnished jewelry here among gold that glitters and diamonds that speak. The woman look like dolls, they're so perfect. Hourglass figures with smooth faces and plump lips, sopranos, blonds, brunettes, and rich, coy laughter.





I am a woman. I am a real woman. I have a body that's not for pretend and super models, I have muscle and spine, and my hair? It's black like my mama's. When I laugh, it's thick because I smoke and drink and I like it. When I sing, it's with vibrant alto and tenor cords. To hell the head voice. It's all in the chest.





The men here are the same way, perfect like fairytales. All suits and smiles and sex. Fake men to lure the fake women into a fake life where they'll live happily ever after the end. Their bodies are all toned. Black and brunettes, all bright-eyed and bushy tailed.





They're all white. I haven't seen a single colored person, male or female, in my time here. This is the perfect town that your mama talks to you about in books, where bad things may happen but good always conquers evil and he gets the girl in the end, and when they kiss the world is aglow.





It's almost enough to scare me home. I miss the realness of people. It's the difference between a Metropolitan and drinking brandy straight. It's naked and rich. Even on it's on, without the bells and whistles, it stands and sings. I miss people that stand on their own. I need to find the real people in this new life.

[physiognomy]

The girl in the other room
She knows by now
There's something in all of her fears
Now she wears it threadbare
She sits on the floor
The glass pressed tight to the wall
She hears murmurs low
The paper is peeling
Her eyes staring straight
at the ceiling

Maybe they're there
Maybe it's nothing at all
As she draws lipstick smears
on the wall

The girl in the other room
She powders her face
And stares hard
Into her reflection

The girl in the other room
She stifles a yawn
Adjusting the strap of her gown
She tosses her tresses
Her lover undresses
Turning the last lamp light down
What's that voice we're hearing?
We should be sleeping
Could that be someone who's weeping?

Maybe she's there
Maybe there's nothing to see
It's just a trace of what used to be

The girl in the other room
She darkens her lash
And blushes
She seems to look familiar


December 8th:
I hate to say it, I miss him. Dependency is in my nature. I know that I'm better off here, but brandy and gin don't make good bedfellows. I have a new temp job while I'm switching clubs, but things are quiet. I don't even know if the club is going to work out, but I talked to L and he promised me everything would be find. I trust the buzzard, he's been around since before the beginning. I need to find something here.