Phone Call

The day starts in a cloudy gray gloom
Wandering around the apartment, I know it’ll be sunny soon.
In an effort to waste time, I write you a letter,
Knowing all along that I should know better.
The sun burns through, and I start to gather my things.
Sunblock, book, towel – I hear the phone ring.
“Do you know who this is?” asks a voice far away.
Instantly I do, but I don’t know what to say.
Yes says my heart, but no says my voice,
And I know that quickly I must make a choice.
Why are you calling me? What do I do?
Is it a good idea for me to talk to you?
It’s taken me three years to not think about you every day.
I hear you falter. “I didn’t know to call…is this ok?”
“Sure,” I hesitate, “It’s been a long enough time…”
Silently I convince myself that this is fine.
We talk like old friends about our families, work, and life,
But never once do you mention your wife.
You know, the one that for me you wouldn’t lose,
Only explaining, “I has to do what is right; not what my heart choose.”
You talk about wanting to come and see everybody,
Both of us knowing that by “everybody” you mean me.
Your sister phones and you change your speech quickly
Hearing your Polish, I’m smacked with reality.
What am I doing? This isn’t fair.
Not to me. Not to her. Love isn’t something to share.
“I just hope to always stay friends,” you explain.
But why don’t you understand that things will never be the same?
You chose a life arranged and far away from me,
And it’s not my fault that you ended up unhappy.
You say you’ll call again, but I already know
That next time it rings, straight to voicemail you’ll go.
The conversation ends with your typical “ciao”.
My eyes fill with tears. It’s cloudy again now.