Bad Phone Call
Everyone should have a plain black phone.
Because that object that exists to break the silence
Does not deserve to be cheery or pink or fit in with
The decor. It’s an alien invader.
Not like my dog who begs my attention.
Phone connections are weak and artificial.
Phone calls break the confidence of night
Pummeling me with a gasping, drowning sense of helplessness.
I long to shift, relax, egress, because I can’t find ties
Or answers, or meaning, or measure in any of the familiar places.
But damn, my river flows no where.
I’m stuck right here, teetering between avoiding my emotions,
And exerting for enlightenment. Neither satisfies my anxiety.
Nor my dog’s. She’s asking me again and again with
Every plead in her eyes and every wag of her tail:
Do you love me now? Do you love me now? How about Now?