Serenade

I was remembering 30 years ago living in Providence. I'd try on my house mate Joe's jeans while he was at school. I would cry while looking at his family photographs, the ones that he kept in a cigar box on his old wooden spool table in his room. Then I'd go out onto his balcony and play my silver flute. Sometimes I'd look out and see my neighbor lying down on the grass in his garden looking up, listening.