Interruptions
Interruptions
She calls each day at noon, after her
maple bar and coffee.
Her only meal for the day. Whiskey’s
dinner.
I try to pick up. Answering machines
seem to frustrate her.
I want to ignore her call today.
She’s my Dad’s 2nd wife. He’s had three.
Today she’s pissed about the drop in
stock on cashews.
People are wanting filberts instead, it
seems.
And God forbid the rise in the cost of gas.
She should have bought stock in Prius.
She needs to fire her broker.
She’s run low on creamer which she can
only get at one market in town.
Ralph’s doesn’t care that she wants it.
And broke a nail opening bills to find the
annual fee of $5 has doubled.
Conspiracy.
The maid tried to force her to eat
congealed meatloaf
though it is something she would never be
caught dead eating.
And her neighbor had a cocktail party last
night.
She wasn’t invited. She has no idea why.
They must be jealous, or Jewish, or
Catholic or something.
This up, this down
This right, this left
Nothing is ever as it should be.
Her call waiting beeps and she’s got to go,
because somebody else
needs her.
I laugh at the irony of this.
She calls out she’s glad I’m well and she’s
gone.
I go back to what I was doing, calling the
mortuary.
This morning, my father died.
I wonder if she’s free on Saturday?
Published: Maelstrom
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
