Street lies for lovers

“All the good ones are straight,” he breathes at me through the funnel of his cigarette. I nod, curl my lips, and give no details of the girlfriend I’m off to see. He tells me his friends have coupled off and dropped him downtown, where men at bars pay in compliments, fluff his self-esteem.

Life wouldn’t be worth it without the cocaine, he says. Wouldn’t be worth it without the drinks, the anti-depressants, the darts for that extra buzz. I stare at the half eaten pizza crust and downward paper plate that car tires have run into the road. The streetcar pulls up, and I step on.