June 2008 / Volume Eight / Issue Two
Michael D. Grover
Apartment 307

The woman across the hall
In apartment 307,
She was always friendly.
Always nice to look at,
But a look that said
She had lived life,
And not taken the sheltered route.
Which would explain why she lived
In a cockroach infested
Shithole like this.

The trouble with her was
She would disappear
For days at a time.
No signs of life
Around her apartment.
Then by the last day,
I would start to hear sobbing.
I wondered if I should call someone.
Then like clockwork later in the day
I would hear the LAPD
Kicking down her apartment door.
I just minded my own business
Never ask why.

After the last time
The land lady paid me a visit.
She asked me
When the last time I saw her was.
I told her
It had been a few days.
I did hear sobbing
Through the door that morning.

She explained to me
She had a psycho ex-boyfriend.
He would break in and take her hostage.
Tie her down to her weight machine,
And torture her for days
Until she broke loose
And got to a phone.
She told me the next time it got quiet in there
I needed to let her know.
I told her I would.
We walked out in the hall
Faced the door of 307
Busted down by the LAPD,
The torture chamber behind it.

That night I stopped minding my own business.
I went over there and helped her clean up.
Really I just sat and talked to her
While she cleaned up.
She knew I knew everything.
She was terrified of when he got out of jail.
She moved soon after that.
I hope he never found her.