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CAROL SElTZERPain, The Good KindI hear her moaningonce in awhile when windows,in my four-story building, open,making her steady hum, thenit gets higher and I can telltwo people are together, excited,one singing and the othersilent as I sit hereat two a.m., having exercisedand eaten, too full to move,my hair still wet. I cutmy nails and write checksfor monthly expenses, re-readletters to a friend in New York,wondering if he'll visit this week,and she get louder now,like pain, but the good kindI can vaguely remember, goingslowly on purpose, almostthere, working him upto a frenzy, stunned I canmake someone wince and closehis eyes, saying,over and over, Yes.She's only humming as I sithere, hoping to leave my windowsopen one day, maybe even heardby whole blocks of people.WESTERLY, No.2, JUNE, 1989 31