PHONE (1997/X/04, Cambridge)

I stare at the phone,
waiting for his call.
My enemy.

He said:
"I'll give you a call".
Time passes,
I wanted it to pass,
fast, faster. I want my call.

Pick up the telephone;
hung up.
Pick up again,
__ hesitation...
____ pride.......
______ desire......
I phone.
None.
Three rings and I repent.

Again.
Fingers dancing,
playing with the buttons.
Trembling, I phone.
Four rings, and... his voice.
A recording, damn!
Hung up.

I stand up, walk, eat.
Go to the deck.
"I am happy, I am lucky,
I don't need him".
Auto-persuasion. I fail.

The phone shine,
I have polished so many time.
Caresses,
diverted to the object in between.

5:40PM.
Dial again.
Machine again.
"It's me,
give a call, ok?"
Hung up,
the heart is running away.


"He must be back, 6:10PM"
Pick up,
Push six numbers, stop.
Push three, .... one more...
hung up.

Tap, tap, tap.
"where are you,
why I wait"

I get ready.
Shower, trim the bear.
Cologne, underwear.
Wait.
Low music to hear the ring.

Ring, ring,
I run.
"A friend, go away".

"If he called meanwhile..."
Dial,
ring, ring, ring, ring;
Answer machine.

7:30PM, dinner. Alone.
Ring, ring.
I fly.
"An ex, go to hell".

Wait? no.
I beg, call, call me.
I do.
None.

I write this poem.
And call again.