you called

you called when it was raining
lazy drops spilled a quiet limbo
in perfect alignment with your
ringtone. silent, numb and deadly
just like you.

who knows what we talked about
maybe the leftover psychotropics you
made earrings out of. or the jacket
you sewed together, making a pocket
every few inches
for Valium.

your voice marched on like
a bored band rehearsing for
the 15th time, cymbals grinding
out cold steam. your throat a
coffee filter with too much water.

black hair in short narcotized
strands nebulized by the full
wind which would have no more of
your shocking ordinariness.

maybe i should have listened
that day when you called
but the rain was much more
entertaining even in slippery
sloth. i’m sure you’re calling
someone else now who can’t afford
either cheap color print outs of the
Mona Lisa with a mustache
or Tylenol PM.