At night
practicing the double bass
I imagine Thelonious
and a small group
of pretty, smiling women.
The old woman downstairs
whose husband passed on
about a year ago
dozes
in front of a blaring TV
so loud, I sometimes listen
to the Lifetime movie
casting my own characters:
this one with big hair
that one with long, shapely legs.
She's just returned
from visiting
her forty-something, careered daughter
in Maine.
She hasn't moved her car since.
Her ninety-year-old friend
from across the street
looks in on her
every afternoon
rain or shine.
I lie in bed reading
with a 15-watt.
The frogs in the pond out back
croak
their enjoyment.
Around two
she calls it quits
washes
puts on a frayed nightgown
and slips into her side of the cold bed.
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| Rosalind Solomon |