Rice Paper Walls Played on Cornet by Aurora Lewis

​Walls like rice paper separated our bedrooms
I awoke to the thud of her oak headboard
Banging rhythmically against my wall
Intermingled with the creaking of springs
I lay there, trying to think of anything
Except the empty space beside me
Or the pillow still smelling of Camel cigarettes
Still smelling of an absent cornet player

The sounds through the wall did not arouse me
And the smell of the pillow did not sooth me
I tried to think of him playing his cornet
Notes running up and down the scale
Filling the room with his soft melodies
Or mad riffs of cool jazz buffering the walls
Drowning out my neighbor’s fucking sounds

Through the rice paper I could hear her
Her quick panting timed to her partner’s thrust
His loud grunts and the sucking of his teeth
A battle of moans and groans of which I wanted no part
I pulled the pillow to me and inhaled deeply
Trying only to hear the cornet’s melodic reprieve
Singing sweetly within my head as I lay there

Then I heard her partner come, a resounding OH-SHIT!
And then a deep throated gurgle sound
Followed by her not-quite-finished release
Through the rice paper wall
I heard his breathing morph
into a spent lover’s snore
And the sound of her slippers
Crossing the floor