LOVE + LUST, and Other Profound Desires
Once, I listened to a man tell of how he bandaged a topless dancer’s bleeding finger after she cut it while stroking the edge of a mirror during a performance. Listening, I felt sick to my stomach. I had that same feeling once when walking down the sidewalk in Las Vegas, trying to avoid stepping on the dozens of tossed-aside postcards that littered the streets, lascivious photographs of young women staring up at me. For a good time call. I didn't want to walk on their faces. She’s someone’s daughter, I thought . Someone’s niece. Someone’s mother. I found a restaurant with an outdoor bar shaded by palm trees, green ferns and flowers. I sat on a stool and ordered a ginger ale. The land beneath the city felt dead, suffocated by cement, devoid of spirit, even as fountains sprayed a river of water a hundred feet into the desert air and glittering neon lights dwarfed the sun. I took deep breaths and focused my attention on two birds flittering among t...