Party Dots

Waitress at Maya food spot. She had three dots tattooed on her wrist. Mi Vida Loca, my crazy life. She was pregnant, had a small patch of staccato keloid scars on the left inside of her arm. She smiled effortlessly through blue eyes, full cheeks set into orange peroxide hair. I noticed a framed piece of art on the wall directly in front of me. It was a series of Maya glyphs arranged in a circle, burned into leather. The glyphs roughly followed the face of a clock give or take extra hours. Around eleven o clock was a small arrangement of elements that loosely resembled a swaddled television set with what my wife dubbed a broken cookie floating above it. The cookie halves were filled with three little dots.