Empty

On the other end

Of his kind words

There is an emptiness

I like to wait

Until it’s after one

Then I drive downtown

And find my favorite pay phone

I dial his number

Sometimes he answers

And when he does

He goes ‘Tsk tsk’

Just like that

Because he knows

I’m being bad

And that’s why

Sometimes

He doesn’t answer

And on the nights

When he doesn’t answer

I go home

And I run a bath

And I let myself

Fall asleep in it

And when I wake up

I’m so cold

The water turning my skin

Inside out

And I have to crawl into bed

Under the comforter

I got on my last credit card

Before it maxed out

And try, try, try

To get warm again

On the nights when he does answer

On the nights when he ‘tsk tsk’s me

I don’t drive home at all

I go to his apartment building

And I park in the spot

Under his window

And if it’s hot

I roll the windows down

And fall asleep

To what I think is

The air conditioning in his window

Rumbling and shaking the frame

When it’s cold

I pull a blanket from the backseat

And I get nice and warm

I used to have this portable radio

I’d keep in the seat next to me

So I don’t kill the battery on the car

And I’d put on the easy listening station

Coming in from Boston

And listen to them talk about the weather

On the Back Bay

So late at night

And I’d think about

Being one of those women

With high-powered jobs

And gorgeous apartments

With the rent all paid up

And all these men

Knocking on her door

And she’s just going to bed

Every night

Knowing she’s got something

Important to do

Tomorrow

Not sitting in a car

Late at night

Just wanting to be close

To some guy

Who gave her

His phone number once

And an address

That might be his

Or might be

Someone else’s

Because he might’ve moved

A few years ago

And never told her

When would he have told her?

Late one night

Over a pay phone?

In the morning…

In the morning

I drive home

And I know

I’m going to be late

To work again

But part of me

Wants to just

Let it all go

The job

The rent

The things that make me think

I can still hold on

Even when the rest of me knows

I let go

A long time ago

But I know

I’ll pull through

Take a hot shower

Not a bath

Drink about four cups of coffee, black

And make it work

With two minutes to spare

My boss will remark

On how I’m always punctual

But my handwriting is sloppy

And I’ll laugh it off

And think about later that night

The gloss on the streets

The light coming off the signs downtown

The way the pay phone

Feels in my hand

And how I’m only ever

Seven numbers away

From being asked

To come by

And come

Inside