Jazz

By nightfall she was exhausted.
Close to tears she slumped on the floor
beneath the open window,
back to the wall she hugged her knees
a glass of red wine beside her,
her shower-damp hair cooling
on her naked breasts.

That morning she left their apartment
knowing he would be relieved
when he came home and found
the space she had created
in the bathroom cabinet, the cupboards
and the CD rack. He would check
to see if all his belongings remained.
He wouldn’t miss her.

Below her on the fire escape
her neighbour started to play
his sax. Riffs and scales at first
then mournfully, it broke her heart
all over again. The echoing notes
cried down the alley
dragging with it all the heartache
in the world.

She straightened, listening now.
Bluesy melodies, one after the other
“What are you doing the rest of your life”
brought silent tears dropping
warm on her evening cool skin
and reminding her of possibilities.