We were parked in a deserted, weed-infested lot on Front Street. The morning sun was just rising from the other side of the river, big and yellow. Everything was quiet, empty, the crumbling buildings and streets still slumbering in the early light. Except for me and the cowboy—we were tugging on ...
He was young, about the age when he did Crime in the Streets, which is about my age now. He was very beautiful, and about two inches shorter than me, and he smelled of Old Spice. I remember feeling awkward, my feet unsure of which way to go. I kept saying, “But I don’t know how to waltz.” And Sal...