Rosalie's Picture

I wrote this in the voice of an elderly gentleman. I was inspired to write this when I saw an old man get on the bus and as he flashed his bus, I caught a glimpse of a black and white photo. I guess my imagination ran away with me!

When I board the 88 bus,
with my senior citizen ticket,
I see Rosalie sitting in my wallet.

From where she’s sitting
I can’t see the blush in her cheeks,
the shade of her dress,
or the flower’s color which rests
in her hair. Luckily I studied

her for so long, each detail
is memorized. Her cheeks,
a pink blush from the sun, the flower
matching the blush, the dress
blue. Well green. We argued
over the color. Today she wears

some earrings I bought her. Every day,
she wears the earrings I bought her.
They have two pearls resting, supporting
each other with a silver charm dangling
at the end. A smile slides down

my brain onto my lips. The bus
driver clears his throat, looking strangely
towards me. As he nods his head
I’m unsure if it is to acknowledge
my ticket, or something else. Either way,
I find a spot on the near empty bus.

But I don’t travel alone.