i often thought that i was in a book
i was a character of sorts - and now
i find that i am not the only one. he
has heard the voices as well and we
are not crazy. we have synchronized
and we have parted ways. for as i
write he has called. and i pretend i
am asleep - i want to be on the phone
and i know he knows i am awake and
so i called him back. and the narration
continues: he calls, she answers, they
speak of this and that barely touching
on reality. but this is not what the call
is for, it is a call to gauge the edges of
the night so each does not feel so alone
that is why she answered, that is why he
called. and that is why this poem was
left
