Passion at Forty By Jane Barnes

What will your landlady think of me
sitting on your porch for hours
waiting for you to come home?

Al, Look out there.
That girl’s still on our stairs.
She’s eating her supper now.
Out of the bag.
Camping out.
Do you think she’ll sleep here?
A minute ago she wrote something
 in the book. Can’t she do all this
at her own house?

O, Wanda. Come and sit down.
Your program’s just come on.

Now she’s writing again.

Wanda. Stop it.

What will she think, dear?
Only that I’m crazy.
Never that I’m in love with you.


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