Green Peas at Stake

When Old Friends Call (Dew Drop 26)

When Old Friends Call

Their voices rearrange me,
invasive with long arms
but not counterfeit,
so I open my shutters
to drag in their freshness.
They spoon me up like honey
like the tonic they thought
I was, galaxies away, but now
I hide me. I hide how dried up,
how spread-too-thin I am,
and I hope, beating around
the inflections, my tone
will go unnoticed. My palm
sweats with the taste of
the receiver, and chitchat fills
empty spaces, trickling in
juicy morsels, healing
what eyes don't see,
following me into good-byes.
A temporary merger, yet
what's derailed is
back on track.