Alone on a summer night meant
a cold dinner. Leftovers after work. A microwave meal:
Half frozen peas, a mush afloat the lake of pasty gravy.
Ketchup-less meatloaf, balanced atop one knee
on the sofa; frayed and stuffed to bursting.
The microwave called, in his nagging sing-song voice
She kicked off her shoes,
Her rough, callused feet brushed the tiled floor.
A strange noise trickled in the window – at first just a whisper.
A joyful tune for the distance, laughter, voices
melting together into one frequency of bliss.
With a groan she urged her weary feet along to the
Dirty, hazy window.
Cramped fingers pulled the latch.
What a sight there was to see!
A thousand bobbing heads, feet all keeping time with the booming thumps of the drums.
The brass tubas reflected the faces of eager onlookers
In the fading sunlight.
Wide-eyed children twirling flags, horses tip-toeing,
police officers on their backs.
She watched – transfixed, brought back to reality.
To a world without glowing computer screens,
Water coolers,
Or glazed jelly doughnuts.
She smiled.
Truly smiled – her crinkled face lit up.
Soon the garbage disposal gargled contentedly. Pleased.
She grabbed her coat,
feet light and airy,
She was going out to eat.