The Breather

Just as in the horror movies when someone discovers that the phone calls are coming from inside the house so too, I realized that our tender overlapping has been taking place only inside me. All that sweetness, the love and desire— it’s just been me dialing myself then following the ringing to another room to find no one on the line, well, sometimes a little breathing but more often than not, nothing. To think that all this time— which would include the boat rides, the airport embraces, and all the drinks— it’s been only me and the two telephones, the one on the wall in the kitchen and the extension in the darkened guest room upstairs.