Missed Call
By Armando Ortiz
Yeah, I looked you up
after you accidentally called me
using a different program.
You were probably thinking of someone
while traveling through Eastern Europe
but in your mind a lingering memory
had you lost in hateful similes of me.
The ancient wandering rats of Rome
had you thinking of a sleazy and grimy opossum,
the foreign dialects that you heard had you wondering,
how true words could be so deceptive
to a lonesome soul.
You wore a white fuzzy cap,
a light blue dress with white borders
that fluttered to the Autumn winds
hid your body from all elements
and you had that unknown smile.
My eyes saw a tribal queen,
holding strong against the jet streams of
the Northern Asian steppes,
just a nomadic princess
made strong and determined by life’s
experience.
You were more than a marble bust
carved by the hands of Rodin,
like a rare precious Afghan stone,
that turned into the eyes of Venus over
the moonlight waters of Los Angeles.
I’ve moved on and
won’t return that call
but it raised many more questions
than it did answers at all.
I want to return to that accidental connection
and tell you about my situation,
you cannot to be my obsession, but
I’d walk with you in bazaars
along alleys and streets
and make memories anew.
But all you are is a reminder
of the time you said to leave
when you sent that message
where you turned the page
with our chapter closing,
making me disappear.
I have to remember that you are a digital copy
no longer here, but there, somewhere in LA,
a figment of the imagination
a morning frost in the middle of autumn
that disappears into the air by the time
I ring the bell to do my job with simple care.
Believe me though
I’d still eat you up
in one green light
digging deep
and striking gold.
