His name was Lucho. At least that's what I thought it was.
He introduced himself while I sat on a park bench,
cafe con leche in one hand and a cigarette dangling from the other.
He lectured me on the cigarette. I think.
I'd traveled half a world, my baggage unchecked.
I envisioned warmth, and drinks, and perhaps an exotic lover.
The streets were busy, restaurants were full.
Everything about this place, where we'd never been,
made me think of him.
Lucho smiled when he asked for my number
and I smiled when I gave it to him.