Steve Papesh

Tchaikovsky: Villanelle

She was listening to Tchaikovsky on the train;
her pink ear buds blasting for everyone to hear,
and I sat to her left eating chicken chow mein.
 
Trying not to stare, I drank my dollar champagne
From a purple paper bag with a blue cartoon bear.
She was listening to Tchaikovsky on the train,
 
And tracing with her finger a green graffiti stain
in the window that claimed “Cash Money Wuz here,”
and I sat to her left eating chicken chow mein.
 
I wish I had worn a fedora or a gaudy gold chain,
something that would’ve made her notice I was there.
She was listening to Tchaikovsky on the train,
 
And sliding her fingers through her maroon mane.
Then she stood up. I knew her stop must be near,
and I sat to her left eating chicken chow mein.
 
The last I saw of her was a tattoo of Mark Twain
On her forearm. We could discuss Lit. over a beer.
She was listening to Tchaikovsky on the train,
and I sat to her left eating chicken chow mein.


 


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Steve Papesh is a graduate of Lewis University, a former Jet Fuel Review editor, and a writer.