The yellow kimono I gave her on the dark stairway as a gift is worn now in the light of her bedroom for her husband's eyes. He believes she bought it to please him. It could very well be. In loving me, she found the love for her husband translated into a yellow kimono he could not afford. I vanished from her sight long ago. The dark, damp, dusty back stairs where we met, I on my knees before her, she queenly supine, still stands. Each morning on my way to work I pass it -- in the same building where I earn my pay. |