she stood outside the apartment finger halfway up her nose scratching with her free hand a **** loosely encased in patchy, ***** blue jeans ratty sneakers with holes where her toes and dignity poked through
usually a whiner, a brayer a donkey among gently purring cats calling down thunder and racket like a motorcycle tearing circles through a lamp shop
today, of all days, she swayed
silently in loose waltz time to soft piano of a long-dead Frenchman curling down from speakers mounted in windows across the street
her misshapen hips and flexing calf muscles lifting her up in a rude en pointe somehow made elegant by a quiet ballad, a soothing moment on a hot August morning in Main Street of the hinterlands.
the marriage of people I know, and music I only think I know.