The Other Side
By Gene Aronowitz
I overheard her talking
with a friend: “Some asshole’s snoring
kept me awake all night.”
I knew she was talking
about me.
I approached, apologized, told her
to knock
on our shared wall and I would
turn over, be
noiseless,
at least for a while.
I thought about her that night,
pretty, engaging, slim, the right
height for me, wished to
please her, sleep
soundlessly, She did sleep soundly that night, I learned. It wasn’t
my snoring
that kept her awake. It was
her irritation. After lunch, she showed us
a video of her psychic
surgery stretched out before a man whose
hand appeared
to enter
her abdomen
as she lay there, eyes closed
trusting,
compliant,
mostly nude.
I glanced at her often that day. At night,
I imagined her lying naked,
on the other side of the wall, hoping
I would snore
just loud enough,
that she might decide
to knock.
