Voicemail, from Dangerously Beige

Voicemail ~ Dangerously Beige

He calls me again, this one

whom I met only once, the moment

is vivid and my smile recalls,

his glasses matched mine, his sense

of humor and style harmonized.

I let the answering machine beep,

my skepticism and distrust attending,

then listen intently, and push play.

His voice again, delicious and playful,

his words performed for my senses.

Consonance to my ears.

He plays the game, they say

and I fear, his sincerity

may take second fiddle to flattery.

I take some time to return his call,

practiced at suspicion and guarded

with experience. It might be better

that he’s just pretending, I’m not

ready for seriousness. When I call

he has a conflict, and wants to change

our date. “Thursday, it is.”

We meet for coffee, drink too much,

sit, talk, and laugh with ease.

Time passes quickly, but we’re not

ready to call it a day. We get a bite to eat

and go see “Romeo and Juliet”

those foolish idealistic young lovers.

Afterwards we grab a beer and giggle

over youth, and impetuousness.

“Next time,” I say. Knowing it

will be soon. He calls again,

again the machine, his voice singing

over the buzz of my reticence.

I call him back quickly this time.

He has a blues band on his mind.

We go dancing and again share

the laughter and comfort. The sounds

of the music joining our counterpoint.

When our hands meet we can’t seem to

let go. After the listening , after the dancing,

we move to my house and drink coffee, again.

His kisses are lovely and to be held

is much sweeter then I remembered.

Next time he calls I will answer.