Excitement permeated. What will I do? How will I ask. So positive; this will be a blast.
A lump begins to-but I choke it down.
No.
"Zac" I say. " Believe. Between you and me, please. believe."
Fortitude.
Scrolling, locating, dialing. beep, boop, beep, beep, boop, boop, beep, boop, beep, bop. Stop. Is it ringing?
yes.
once, twice. "Please hold," is that right? What is this? My stomach heaves, the elevator music leaves. "You've reached the phone of," my mind shuts off. Is this an eternal clock? The speaking stops.
A permeating existential thought.
"This is Zac, I guess I'll try back."
Confusion.
What just happend? Once again or Not yet to begin?
15 years ago
1 comment:
One of your best truly! Despite the frustration behind the poem. Ms. Right is out there!
This, I think would've taken a cake or otherwise dead rose at a Slam.
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