It Might Have Been the Wind

It Might Have Been the Wind
I really do love the buildings in Salem’s old downtown: the battered stairways and bricks, the occasional name or date painted above second-story windows and visible from the street, the narrow, old-style shops on Court Street and State Street with simple doors set in from the rain, the high ceilings inside, the weathered walls in the back rooms and ghostly creaking floors, the upstairs apartments and musty store rooms, the gray windows staring at each other across shadowed alleys, the ledges, drainpipes, and chimneys. And then late one evening, something caught my eye: from a window high above, a handkerchief set free by an outstretched hand. I climbed the steps: on the dance floor, the music had just stopped. The room was empty. I heard a rustling that might have been the wind. *May 2, 2006* Previous Entry Next Entry Return to Songs and Letters About the Author	Main Page Author’s Note Background Notebook A Listening Thing Among the Living No Time to Cut My Hair One Hand Clapping Songs and Letters Collected Poems Early Short Stories Armenian Translations Interviews News and Reviews Highly Recommended Let’s Eat Favorite Books & Authors Useless Information Conversation E-mail & Parting Thoughts Flippantly Answered Questions
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