Gypsy

We're Going Crazy And We're Going Today

She hated this song.

She told me one night. Dressed in a flowing skirt and a t-shirt from a bar in what once was Yugoslavia.

We drank tea.

And talked about dreamcatchers.

And the streetlights in Prague.

And her friends in Munich.

And the close calls in Turkey. And London.

The long walks in New York. The work that took her all over the continent. (And my inability to remember now which continent it was.)

The insomnia in Tokyo. The insomnia in Chicago. The insomnia in Miami.

And I told her something sad.

And she reached out. For a second.

And held my hand.

And I knew I'd carry that touch with me always.

Even when she wandered. Off again.

Because that's what she did.

Because that's her life. As a Gypsy.