Rachel’s By Jasen Sousa

Rachel’s


I walk up Highland Avenue
from the train station.
I spot a large woman sitting on a porch.

“Young man, young man.
Can you go to the corner store
and buy me soda and paper towels?” She asks.

She hands me money, feels
like a wet sock.

Back to her house, she’s gone,
the front door is open.

I tiptoe towards the threshold,
hear heavy breathing echoing
throughout the eerie environment.

“Hello?”

“Over here, over here.”
“I’m on the couch,” she huffs.

I give her the bag,
she thanks me.

“One more thing young man,

in my basement, there’s an air conditioner.
It’s so hot, can you please install it for me?”

I turn the doorknob,
it falls off on first touch.

Cobwebs stick to my face, it sits on a crate.
I lift, carry it up narrow stairs,
brute weight carves into my forearms.

I install it.
She thanks me again.

“One more thing please.
The sun is so bright. See those green drapes on the floor?
Can you please hang them for me?’

I balance myself on an old chair,
sun blinds my vision,
I hang her drapes.

“Thank you! Thank you!
One more thing I promise.
I’m going to start
a business in my house,
can you make a sign for me?
It’s really too hot for me to do anything.”

I place fresh marker tips on cardboard,
carefully curve my letters.
I finish the sign
and place it in the window.

I leave her house,
look at the air conditioner,
green drapes and the sign that reads,


Rachel’s Psychic Readings




Taken From
Humming Eternity By Jasen Sousa (Written During Emerson College Era)
©