I am so tired but this just popped into my head – instead of screaming Tatjana, I could have screamed her nickname Tonya, which does approach Stella and I think I could have made it work. But we can’t turn back the hands of time and have me drive up in my truck, still charmed by the mysteries of this woman, and hear the song, I want you, carried through the large window layered on the thick humid New Orleans air – see her poke through the window that way, long bony arms propping her up on the sill, see her smile to see me and I walk up the narrow brick steps that lead to her place, which then was still a mystery. I go back to this moment many times in my mind, but I can’t insert myself yelling Tonya (or the way she would spell it, Tanja) at the top of my lungs with a longing that more resembles Coleridge than Williams – wailing for my demon lover or actually me the demon lover wailing T A N J A (read: P A R A D I S E).