Some time, late at night

You talk down the phone,
saying 'it's been a while.
How are you doing,
can I make you smile?'

'What are you doing, is
this a convenient time?'
I mime beneath breath,
grab the towel round my chest,
prepare for a long one
as suds dampen the floor.

You're four hours somewhere
and you've called 'cos you care?
To give me some news
that the Cinderella shoes
that you gave to some girl,
was really a mistake,
her arches have dropped and
you've always admired
my dainty instep.

I adjust myself, my feet
are quite blue
look for my slippers
the chiropedist prescribed
as letting you ramble
I fumble around.

'How is the weather,
my brother, his wife?'
You send salutary wishes
to Ben in New York,
as suddenly it flashes
like a wine bottle cork
that I don't know your name,
you must be insane

I'm not your lost love
you forsook years ago,
its not her number
you mistook in the book ~
but your well in your stride
about how your wife lied,
she's taken the baby,
the dog and the house
and moved in her lover,
who's a cook in Concorse.

'It should have been you,
I was such a damn fool!
'How are you doing,
did you marry at all?'

I think of my bath
now grown quite cold,
you sound a bit down
but I'm such a coward.

I say 'I'll just get some wine,
we'll have a good chat,
give me five minutes
and I'll call you back.'








Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 415 times
Written on 2009-05-27 at 13:45

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