A two sided conversation

A two sided conversation
shrivels,

youhappy birthday,
i
hope
you’re
enjoying
yourself
today ...

then ... um ...

silence; I said:
if you need me, you know where I’ll be,

I’m always here.

On the other side of the phone,
three hours away, in a car
speeding through
Everett - gawking - making
a mockery (going out
of my way) to not
think about you.

but then you call -

a hollow shout across the mountain;
I curl my hair like Heidi
and roam the streets of this
Bavarian shelter, where the waltz music
falls like the withered yellow leafs
of autumn at my feet.

I do not dance, unless you bribe me,
unless you prescribe me

to become
a cure
for this silence.

I hate it. But then your voice
is awkward (hidden)
in my cell phone, untouchable,

I listen over and over,
smile, curse myself, pull
clumsy fingers through
my hair, tie a scarf
tighter around my throat,

until I can’t breath,
think, or
feel.

You said: I hope to talk
to you later,

if not, then enjoy your
birthday.