Dancing at the Gold Monkey
by Allen Learst

YOU CAN'T SLEEP WITH YOUR BEST FRIEND'S WIFE and not feel anything, even when his wife's left him, and she wants to sleep with you. You can’t, but you do. You know there’s no wisdom in this. At Gabe’s Bar, Mick says, “Let’s go up north.” You never lived up north, owned a dog or a gun, but you do now. You keep a .45 in the glove box, and when you leave the bar, Detroit’s a shadow skirting the edges of pavement and chrome.

“Where’s the wisdom?” you ask your friend.