Robert Baum
Transition
at the church with the rainbow banner,
Lee pulls his 10-year-old Honda Civic off the road,
parks at the back of the lot
40 minutes before the morning service.
only the most diligent choir members mill about.
still in the driver’s seat
he slips off his jeans and khaki shirt,
throws a green print dress over his head and pulls it down,
kicks off his sneaks, and dons a pair of low-heeled pumps.
she retrieves a bob-cut black wig from the glove box,
long out of style,
positions it just so.
make up,
overly done
in an adolescent way.
this one hour a week
Lea is welcome—
it will do for now.
cacophony juxtaposition— jazz
About the Author
Robert Baum is a retired educator, writer/editor, and artist. Currently he teaches English to immigrants for the Hispanic Outreach Center in Clearwater, Florida. He and his wife, Carolyn, divide their time between the Gulf coast and the Jersey shore.
Amazing!!
Neena,
Two exclamation points–a very nice compliment.
Thank you,
Bob
I love this. It speaks of the safe place that we all long for, the spot where, just for a moment, we can be ourselves. We all long to be seen, to be accepted.
And the haiku is brilliant. 🙂
Cherie,
So glad you get it! It was truly enjoyable to weave the elements of visual layout, narrative poem, and haiku together.
Thank you,
Bob