The Girls on Eddie's Answering Machine

The girls on Eddie’s

Answering machine

Are calling

To let him know

That their numbers

Have changed

They were four

Now five

And seven

Six

Then twelve

And Eddie won’t know
Because Eddie isn’t home

And these are the days

When you have to be there

To get the call

To let you know

That one of your eight’s

Has become a twenty-three

In Eddie’s kitchen

Pizza boxes

Go unattended

There are no rats

Because Eddie

Washes the boxes

Before he stacks them back

Against the backsplash

Where nothing splashes

Because Eddie is nothing

If not

Immaculate

Eddie was born

To a virgin mother

And his father

Was a man in a photo

That Eddie

Was never allowed

To see

And on the answering machine

There are the voices

Of women

Who’ve had their voices stolen

By sea witches

And incantations

And magic spells

And bad spells

And drowsy spells

And spells of depression

They want to tell Eddie

They don’t care

Where he is

Some are calling to say

They’ve moving away

To places

With names

Eddie will never

Pronounce

Some had a nice time with him

But only got a few words in

Some took awhile

To call

Because they knew

There wouldn’t be
Anybody there

To pick up

Or maybe, even worse

Eddie would answer

And in the background

They’d hear a party

They weren’t invited to

Eddie was someone

Who could have parties

Or could go to parties

Or could stay home

And let the phone

Ring

The girls on Eddie’s

Answering machine

Told him things about themselves

That they usually

Keep behind a paywall

And the currency needed

Is time Eddie didn’t have

Because the next girl was waiting

To confess

His bed is made

Because he never

Sleeps in it

Preferring to fall

On the couch

Like a guest

In his own home

And a pest

That can’t be

Exterminated

Glasses of water

All over the coffee table

But coasters

Under

Every one

The answering machine

Fills up fast

And last night

When he came home

The red light

Had turned to black

And Eddie thought to himself

That he’d never seen

A black light

Blinking

And when he hit play

There was singing

Somebody was singing

On his answering machine

The song was one

He’d never heard

And when the last word

Was thrifted

He sat down

On the chair

He never sits in

And picked up

The phone