I see her face
again.
Perfection.
In my dreams she walks, like Kim Novak
in Vertigo. Or Michel, the French Gangster
of Godard's. Perfectly constructed. My love. My lover. She was pregnant too, Just like Patricia.
Was.
A murderer too.
We both were. That's why when I see Travolta cop an attitude, I know its just that, a Breathless stance or mask. Everybody wears sunglasses.