SHESHE 

                                                                                by

                                                                    Susan Green

I sang with SheShe today

At the Thirty Fourth Street subway station!

I see her there, every once in a while,

Singing in front of the escalator to the B Train.

Where they have painted the once grey pillars in pastels..

Oh, how she loves her jazz

Her voice and body moving, …

Dipping, rising,

Talking to you…     

You know, just from how she moves

That the music is inside her -     

Lifted out in the song

She started “Summertime…” 

I stood by the sidelines,  not able to leave

But the song began to filter its way up inside me    

And out my mouth

She heard.

Turned toward me

Smiled, beckoning,

Allowed me in.

And we sang -

The two of us - 

Her deep power,

And my higher voice

Trying to be with her

And do what she did with the melody,

The words, the emotions, 

How she felt it.

Sometimes we were truly together

Loving being there

I echoed her… caught up with her..

And I was permitted to let the voice carry and 

Talk with hers.

Understand each other.

We hugged, when it was over..

SheShe invited me back.

I whispered how much I learned from her.

Oh, how next time, I will hope it is again,

A song I know.

 The Purple Rat 

        Susan Kohn Green

I have seen many things on the subway;

Couples kissing,  a turtle on a leash

A cockatoo, subway dancers spinning - 

Little girls blowing bubbles - 

But when the door opened

I almost put my hand on a rat.-

A purple rat.

Well, not really purple, but lighter,

Maybe  -  lilac, 

Perched on the handle of a case carrying-

Four more - rats - 

Which I didn’t see, but were probably resplendent

In a variety of colors - 

Versus those down below on the tracks - 

Who are primarily gray.

“You poor thing”, I said

But the man in the gaucho hat assured me,

“It’s a natural dye”.

The color was well chosen, the complement of 

The orange eyes of an albino. 

His fur was soft - smooth, 

It sniffed, whiskers flickering, 

He began to crawl up my arm - trusting

Then down again.

There were obviously some people who did not appreciate Gismo

Gismo  - that was his name.

One woman flinched as the tattooed owner

Asked if she would like to hold him, 

As he held Gismo upside down

And stroked behind the purple ears,

The rat in obvious ecstasy, 

As is my poodle when I rub her tummy;

Eyes closed, almost purring.

But

A young woman pushed further into the jam-packed car

Getting as far away as possible

Spitting out, 

“That’s disgusting,” 

The rat paid no attention, 

Just sat purple-y  on the owner’s shoulder 

As they got off at Forty Second Street

Just like so many others. 

 Of course.

 On a Very Grey Day

Susan Kohn Green    

A petal of a red rose just fluttered by my kitchen window

On the seventeenth floor.

I have seen many things sail by;

From egrets and pigeons,

Billowing plastic bags-  to balloons

Which some child probably lost far below

And is crying for now, as they twist and turn,

Adrift between the buildings

And on into the sky

Oblivious to the pain of her loss. 

After all, it is a balloon.

I have seen airplanes,

A blimp, looking for all it’s worth 

Like a goldfish swimming sedately through the sky,

And helicopters - 

That, to my eye, look like mosquitoes

And sound like black flies.

Clouds, sunsets, moons - 

But never before a single petal of a red rose.