Returning tension


I don’t think that you will call me back (I never do). I often imagine that those I can even be bothered to call will begin to avoid me, even if they called me first. I imagine they will move to another state, all the way across the country, just to get away from the anxiety of picking up the phone.

Sometimes I think it will be me who drops the line. Even if we haven’t spoken for months, years, a whole lifetime–I put it off, returning your call, just so that I can escape the worry. It works at first, but then I begin to feel guilty for not calling. I should, I know I should.

But the open line between us would be so starkly crackling and pensive. What could happen in the space of that phone call? Subtleties, more graceful than those available to a text message. My voice might intone the spark that sets the line to flame. Raze the bridge between your burning ear and mine, break into silence.

Get off the phone, I’ll meet you in the streets.


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