|
|
|
|
lives in portland, oregon. raud@raudkennedy.com
“Hello?” I answer.
Telephone silence.
“Hello?” Again but with false cheer.
Nothing.
I hang up.
Every few afternoons,
during the trysting hour,
the same call.
Ring, ring, but only quiet.
My wife and I joke
that it's a ghost,
but I know better.
It's someone who wants
to hear our voices.
A past indiscretion,
hers, maybe mine,
don't know and don't want to.
I'm worried. Instead of listening,
they'll speak, and my wife and I
will look at each other
and never be the same.
These days it's all about quitting,
quit smoking, quit drinking, eating,
sleeping late. Old habits
that helped me know who I was.
One by one, gone. Now sometimes
when I shave in the morning
I wonder who that is
behind the steam on the mirror.
Where's the old friend
I had so much fun with?
Waiting, watching the mosquito
whine against the window pane.
Each morning, this'll be the day
my perfect moment comes
where everything will go right
and walking will feel
like skating on freshly Zambonied ice.
But by night when I fold my pillow
and thump my head into it,
I tell myself, tomorrow, it'll come,
my perfect moment.
copyright deep cleveland llc, all rights reserved
comments: deepcleveland@hotmail.com