my phone rang and i nearly dropped my cup of coffee onto my lap

not sure which would have been more painful, the loss of the black liquid or the burnt balls

probably having to clean the mess

no need for another stain

goddess knows i carry enough of them for a hundred failed dreamers

i answered angrily

the over full cup spilling tendrils of fire on to mostly numb fingers

the heat just at the edge of flaring

i expected a telemarketer

maybe some bill collector looking for teola, this crafty witch that had been using my number for the last couple years and no matter how many times i explained she didn’t have this number they called back on a different one

so we played cat and mouse of me blocking them and them circumventing my defense weekly

one day I hope to meet teola

just to have a face for the name that has caused innumerable fits of near psychotic rage

i picture her as a young woman, with long straightened black hair and a cute gold hoop in her left nostril

long legs and smallish breasts that barely know the inside of a bra

deep brown eyes and thin angry lips

sometimes i feel like i know her better than some of the people i am supposed to know

but no, this isn’t one of those calls

this is another call from someone i barely remember that has found my writings and thinks they are addressed to her

been a few of these lately

they start off the call the same

was thinking about you for some reason

uh huh

small talk from small minds, not even bothering to switch up the routine

somehow they stumbled upon my blog, read a bit of it, got the idea it would be neat if someone wrote to them, about them, made them feel special

i respond by asking who it is again

knock them off their perch

invariably we worked together, had a few drinks sometime long ago, occasionally kissed or something, had a moment in time

i remember but choose to pretend i don’t

we catch up a bit and then always a pause that hovers at too long

“am i Her”

nope, sorry, you are a her but not the Her

quiet, hurt ego, i do nothing to assuage this

i did the first couple times they reached out on messenger or sent a text, let them know they were a near miss, an almost

gave them a touch of closure

but then they want to meet for coffee of which i have plenty here, or go out to dinner sometime, reconnect, which sounds dreadful at best

i did it twice in a fit of insanity and it went the same both times

loveless marriage, he is cheating, or plays games all night, haven’t had sex in months

they think this lonely old fool can bring spice into their lives, i will give them the golden tongue and then spin out an epic poem of a night of sweat and unmeant promises

maybe sneak over during the day while the husband is away, make naughty and escape, a phantom cock for the taking

not what i am after, flattering sure but ultimately pointless

they don’t want the life of secret sins and the war that will inevitably wage when the dark becomes light

they spend a couple days, weeks maybe, lurking on facebook, reading my garbage

analyzing each line for something they can finger themselves to and tell their friends is about them

pretend they are Her, that the words meant for Her are for them

they don’t understand, don’t want to

one word from Her is enough to satiate me, inspire me to continue on

a night with them is just that

how can they hope to compare

so i pretend to have forgotten them until they slink away, back to suburban bliss

maybe to ride their dead inside husband in an effort to get him to write to them the way i write to Her, rekindle that fire they could have had

i’m still the same person i was back then, and they have changed

tell themselves they changed for the better, but we both know the truth

maybe i have changed

the old me would have climbed through that window and left an impression on that marital bed, drank from his favorite cup and left it dirty in the sink

now i just want to place my toothbrush next to Her’s

spend my days writing to Her to see the look on Her face

drink coffee and watch the world go by

meet teola and high five her for giving those bastards the run around

sorry to be so blunt, but you are not Her, She is well aware who She is

but you can pretend, i won’t say a word, pretend until your finger gets all pruney for all i care

just stop doing it on the phone with me