Molly stood at the window

and looked down at the ghostly

street. Flowered gossamer swirled

around her legs—that had barely

seen a newborn sun for ages.

Here and there a solitary walker, but no

crowds waiting at lights, no city traffic.

 

She lit a menthol cigarette

with regular matches,

the windows closed. Scents

of mint and sulphur—

reminders of nearby parks

and working class yards

behind the buildings stinging her

 

with reminiscences.

An ice cream truck parked

in a driveway for little kids

climbing on jungle gyms after

school, and union men on break;

no rule says you have to be under

the age of eight to like a cone.

 

None of this climbed up to Molly—

just mint, sulphur, and memory.

She was a people painter, believed

grace required the breath of humans.

—a couple peeked down from the terrace

across the way and she knew

she could paint. With one motion

 

she stubbed the cigarette, set up her easel,

closed her eyes. Molly wouldn’t paint

this couple she’d met casually,

she just needed them. His tapered writer’s

hands, her witty brilliance, their living.

Molly’d saved her heart, her time, her canvas,

painted all the absences this couple could bear.

 

 

Tobi Alfier

Tobi Alfier is a multiple Pushcart nominee and multiple Best of the Net nominee. “Slices of Alice & Other Character Studies” was published by Cholla Needles Press. “Symmetry: earth and sky” was just published by Main Street Rag. She is co-editor of San Pedro River Review (www.bluehorsepress.com).

%d bloggers like this: