Empty glasses in her hands
Some old monogrammed ice pick
It’s icy out
She comes forward with more drinks
With each downed drink-she gets hard as nails
Pauses to drink-raises her glass to think
She slides off her couch
And onto her knees
Looking under the table for her keys
Front door suddenly flies open
Wake up! Wake up!
Ramona is awake!
“I was a nice girl,” she pleads,” Wasn’t I?”
EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2013
Altered Book: Nine Stories/J.D.Salinger