Sometimes, other than the voice I am talking to, there is noise on the other side. Sometimes laughter, sometimes yelling. The voice I’m talking to says, “gimme a minute” and I hear a muffled something said to someone else. To someone. Else. And then the voice keeps talking to me. And eventually we hang up. And the silence, afterwards, the silence on this side, is just so loud. Debasing. And just so fucking stupid. And lumps my throat. Humiliating and oh so certainly unplanned. Because this is not the way things were supposed to go. There was supposed to be ruckus here too. A phone call like this was supposed to be an interruption to interactions perpetually going on over here too. Of family and love and crazy and busy and often and always and everyday and all. But it’s silent over here. It’s silent again. Still.
A kiss, a kiss, my kingdom for a kiss. Is this why we would do it? Is that kiss what’s gonna bail you, me, out of this mire? Or is it something else. It must be something else. And I think and imagine how, if I were ever kissed, and it was real and solid and good, everything could fall away and be second to that kiss.
Lush to need nobody. Want, sure, but not need. Wouldn’t have it any other way.
There is a switch that can take things to bad. The switch can take things to good too. And in the middle, to despondent. Easily, one way or another. Depending on how the day was, who we talked to, what we saw, remembered, tried, thought. A switch.