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...