By Jane Rain
Date: 2008 Dec 26
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Drunk Dial

he calls at 2am looking for a friend
one who understands him like i do
we talk of his latest discovery
the faux mating ritual that is a club

towards 3am, the conversation steers towards us
his regrets and my explanations
nothing seems to satisfy
what am i up to? have i been dealing well?
things i can't answer because i don't know
he tells me that i will be removed from his buddy list
we can't talk like we have been, nearly every day
it's all been a charade
to dance around the question he really wants to ask
have i moved on?

we're both crying when we hang up
there's no way i'll be able to sleep
i call a friend to recount the conversation
his drunk dial carries over like a disease
and takes form as a desperate dial
when no one answers i drop my phone
and sob harder
i receive a voice mail
i know it's him and i know what he's going to say
should i? why ask, i know i will
call him back to say same
it's true

i turn the conversation over and over again in my mind
until it's smooth as sea glass
only appearances can be deceiving
for it's not born that way
in time it becomes what we want
unblemished and untouched