she said it was too much for her
and she left the theatre.
I asked her when she would be back
and she said in ten years.
the sound-proof walls weren’t completely
echoes of music rolled out like a mist
over the lobby.
she was old; but not quite that old.
old enough, I thought,
as she walked away in her half inch heels.
her loose fitting grey trousers billowed around her ankles.
stop. turn. she billows
back towards me.
“Do you know where the bathrooms are?”
of course I don’t, because no one does.
“Down the hall, to the left,
down that hall, a right, a left,
through a big set of doors, and then
some little ones. To the left”
blank nod. turn.
“Have a good evening”
applause rose from the theatre, and
she was billowing down the hall.
“See you in ten years”