ol' blue eyes

Sometimes, when she is feeling a little bit low, she rifles though her clothes and pulls out her dress slacks and shirt, finds that tie she inadvertently stole from her father, and plucks her fedora from where it sits atop her dresser and puts them all on.

Then she cranks Sinatra real loud.

She slides about the small flat, crooning along with Ol’ Blue eyes, belting them out like she had a voice to stand on. She pretends she cool, smooth, dashing, the kind of man that catches a ladies eye. She pretends this is the golden age of music and this is where she belongs.

And for a little at least, she would feel better.

sent December 2012

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