After the Phone Call

She looked nearly the same

But when I hugged her

There was substantially more

To her—no doubt as with me.

She fibbed as I did at the edge

Of curb under the streetlight

As spiders dropped like tiny

Parachutes—they were difficult

To see. On the periphery

Of good luck, I thought,

Revisiting her quirky habits

And expressions, what I eventually

Found so bothersome. Except

When I glanced at my watch

I discovered I was trembling

Like a small-time embezzler.

I see, she said, you must have

An appointment. The driveways

And hedges funneling back

Into darkness, into someone else's

Childhood, where speech was

An obstacle. Wild turkeys

Approaching across the lawn.

Oh no, I said, I'm just so pleased

To see you. But that didn't

Make sense either. She cocked

Her head, a woman with grown

Twins and three conniving husbands.

Even my toes felt damp. I remember,

She said, when you'd lay your head

On my lap, I'd stroke your hair—

I didn't recall. Though I thought

That would be a good idea now.

But I'm married, I said. I own

My own business. It would have

Been helpful if I'd planned

Some banter. I'm a high school

Principal, she told me,

I don't put up with horseshit

From anyone. I brushed the arm

Of her jacket—she merely stared.

A door slammed. A grown idiot

Drooled in an attic somewhere down

The lane. I had another image

As well, one that held an odor

Of patchouli oil. As she stepped

Forward without caution, placed a hand

On my neck. Take me, she insisted,

To those rivets of flame following

Wire—because this is it,

You'll never have another

Hour. I immediately felt

Calmer...