Missed Call

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.