She says, "Meet me at Saffron but you pay for dinner."
I only go dutch these days until I know the investment isn't a loss.

Deep down south, way past the imaginary boundaries of nation-state they've existed before 1492.  Today they still run for days to see their neighbor.  This gives a whole new definition to friendly.  Imagine Mr. Rogers striding for 48 hours.

I can't.  

My neighbor's son was tied to a chair and set on fire.  
A year later patrol officers were parked outside the house,
standing behind their black and whites, gripping their glocks
as he hollered from the living room he was going to blow his head off
with a shotgun because his girlfriend was evicting him.
He once told me that he used to be a cop and would sleep on duty,
right before passing me a blunt and offering me some fried fish.
His daughter was drinking and then her crying got loud.
She was trying to pace with the rhythm of the blues,
Nina's voice carried the weight.  The sway of the *****
made me talk.  My drawl seeking to comfort the tension in the air.
White boy can't make black girl proud.
Best put it to rest for another day.
When she whispered in my ear she had a kid and her boyfriend didn't show I knew I was too far gone.  The night became a blur.  The next morning my face was buried deep between her thighs.  My back arching again, a quick culmination.  There were sirens everywhere.  She cooked me stew and walked me home.