Sunday on Broadway

Creeks in the floors; the room felt of stale, crisp air; the building shouted its age at me

Accompanying the building were women; grey, plump, martinis on their breath

The piano hummed its first note; my knees started to give; and the music took me away

My heart left my body; and it floated around the room gathering strength from others; and from the walls and from the stereo

And it burst back into my body

Heavier than it was before; but I’d never felt lighter

This is how I felt today; among the elderly ladies and the old, wooden floor

Full.