Transition

at the church with the rainbow banner, Lee 

pulls his 10-year-old Honda Civic off the road, 

parks at the back of the lot

40 minutes before the morning service.

only the most deligent choir members mill about.

still in the driver’s seat

he slips off his jeans and khaki shirt,

 throws a green print dress 

over his head and pulls it down,

 kicks off his sneaks, 

and dons a pair of low-healed pumps. 

she retrieves a bob-cut black wig 

from the glove box,

 long out of style,

positions it just so. 

make up, 

overly done 

in an adolescent way. 

this one hour a week

Lea is welcome—

 it will do for now. 

jazz cacophony

juxtaposition of notes— 

someone’s music