Poetry Corner Friday: Distance (a dance in three movements) — part II
The lights are off so that I can hear
and the volume is up all the way. [...]
Posts Tagged ‘phone’
On the end of a phone conversation
Him: No, really. No woman has ever told me to put on a scarf because it’s chilly and I’m fighting a cold.
Me: Have you ever gotten sick while living with a girlfriend in a place that got this cold in the winter?
Him: That’s not the point.
On lost phones
…He had accidentally set it down on the counter in the pizza place on 32nd street. We stood outside to eat the pizza. About two minutes after we had finished he realized that he had set his phone down. By that time, it was gone. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, just that quickly. This is New York. Don’t set your shit down.
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On a girlfriend
“What did you want with her anyway?” he asked.
“I wanted to say hello, and I wanted to give her one of my old books. Can I give it to you to give to her?”
“No. I want you to pretend she doesn’t exist.”
Did I mention that he’s a Leo?
...read more hereOn a Christmas miracle or five
Gregory Porter answered his phone. On Christmas day. I’m convinced he forgot that he was supposed to be screening my calls. Yes, I’m that arrogant. Am I not important enough to have my calls screened?
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On some other woman’s name
I don’t even know what I’m talking about anymore. It doesn’t make sense, what I’m saying. I don’t even want him to leave her. I just want him to pretend that I’m her and call me by her name…
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On the OD — pt 3 (the phone call)
I don’t know what made me call him back, but I did, just about five minutes after I hung up the phone. I took the cordless and went upstairs to my room, pulled my robe a bit tighter around my body and hit the redial button. He answered with a raspy voice and on the first ring. There was a metronome beeping rhythmically in the background. I had disturbed his practicing. I told him I had a question for him, and that he was free not to answer if he so chose, but I requested that if he chose to answer the question, that he would answer honestly…
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On one of the many reasons I need to get the hell out of my mother’s house as soon as fucking possible
I want to be so obscure that only the diligent and dedicated (and perhaps a privileged few) will be able to distinguish me from all the other ghosts that haunt the streets, such that all the demons, vampires, and snake-charming ex boyfriends will pass me over when they come by looking for blood.
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On lateness
I must have looked an absolute mess pacing back and forth wringing my hands and talking to myself, trying to convince myself that he would indeed be there soon even though he was already (“Excuse me, miss, but can you tell me the time?”) twenty minutes late. I must have looked an awful, absolute mess…
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