A Woman Walking Not Alone
dreams of marmalade cake and silk throw pillows to lean upon, to rest her swollen ankles when she comes home from stocking Aisle Two of the local WaWa, a bus, two blocks walking, and a second bus away. A woman walking not alone hears in the beat against her ribs a Vivaldi, a Dr. Dre, Taiko drummer when she sits on the toilet to relieve her always-full bladder, day-dreaming of future ifs. A woman walking not alone must be cautious who she is walking not alone with, must use X-ray vision to peer into the dark alley she passes to get to her front stoop, must meet the eye of every not-aloneness she passes to let them know that she is not the one they want. A woman walking not alone is always thinking of what may be and why nots, even as the bearing pains seize her and split her in two. Even after her not-aloneness becomes a two-ness of lone souls.
Elizabeth Rosen
Elizabeth Rosen is a native New Orleanian and a transplant to small-town Pennsylvania. She misses Gulf oysters and Southern ghost stories but has become appreciative of snow and colorful scarves. Her stories have been nominated for the Pushcart, O. Henry, Best of the Net, and Best Small Fictions. Colorwise, she is an Autumn. Rosen still wants her MTV and has the T-shirts to prove it. You can order her flash chapbook, Survival Skills, through her website www.thewritelifeliz.com.
