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Turn Around, Frank. Look at Me.
The prompt was a nighttime photo of a rainy
cross-town street in Manhattan.
11:20 on a warm spring night. A passing shower on Bleeker Street and the
promise of a long, lonely weekend in May. God Almighty, did Holly ever have the
blues! She never had them as bad as this before.
But Frank turned out to be just like all the others. Taking her for granted
that way -- and the last four weeks they were like fencers -- lunging,
thrusting. Each of them wanting desperately to hurt the other, until finally,
this rainy cross-town street she reached up and touched his face, (that face
that meant so much to her) and said, "We better not see each other any more,
She hoped he would argue, ask her to forgive him, "I know I've been selfish,
Holly -- please forgive me." But no, he just straightened up, settled his hat
down a little firmer and walked away. She watched him go, thinking maybe he'd
turn around and look at her -- he wouldn't have to come running back, that
would be too much to hope for. But if he had only turned around to look at her.
In her heart she told herself if he did that one little thing, she would once
again run to him - as she had so many times before.
Then she lost sight of him in the crowd. The shiny raincoats, the black
umbrellas swallowed him up and hid him from her. God Almighty, did she ever have
Piano, bass, drums and a girl singer. "Here's the "Alouettes," just in from
Ottawa after a smash engagement at the Royal Vic." Good thing no one ever
looked closely into that "smash" engagement, or Frank's heroin conviction for
that matter. Not that it would have made any real difference down here in the
Village, but they get antsy when it's the piano player - especially the piano
player. The piano holds it all together.
What would he do now? Out here in these wet streets? Somebody will come up to
him and give him the eye and a two finger kiss. Frank's eyes will light up
and whatever the price is, he'll pay.
Oh Frank, Frank, if only you had turned around to look at me.
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