Description
This time the mystery woman is Marisol — sultry, smoky, smells faintly of mesquite and midnight, eyes like spilled mercury. Frank can’t decide if she was a lounge singer, a time-traveling lounge singer, the ghost of a lounge singer who died in 1957, a very convincing impersonator he hired himself while drunk, or possibly the actual bartender who kept pouring until the room tilted 90 degrees. The song keeps breaking apart as he tries to remember what happened, what didn’t happen, and whether he ever left the bar at all.