Voice Mail - 1/30/07

The electronic voice
asks me for my password –
one-one-one-four.
“You have one unheard message.”
“That’s why I’m here, you idiot,”
I say, like the voice can hear.
My heart beats faster.
It’s your voice –
I love your voice.
Something’s wrong.
You sound so afraid,
like it all depends on that one phone call –
that one call I didn’t answer.
You ask if I’m OK.
Of course I’m not OK.
I say it aloud though you can’t hear –
didn’t want you to anyway.
I need you here with me.
I love you. Please don’t go.
“To save this message, press 9.”
So I do, and listen again –
and again – and again.
At every pause I say, “I love you” –
cause I know that you can’t hear me –
and it makes no difference anyway.
I love you.
I need you.
Please call again soon.