On Hold

Hey, it’s me.
Where have you been?
You don’t answer my calls.
The only words I’ve heard from you are:
”Please leave your name and number
and I’ll get back to you.”

You don’t come over like you used to.
Is it something I said?
Or I did?
What? What? What?
Tell me, please.

Are you just trying to avoid me?

I think not.
Last week I saw you outside the Bowery Poetry Club.
You tried to go incognito but I know it was you.
I thought I’d let you play out this scenario
or whatever.

You had dyed blonde hair and wore glasses
instead of contacts.
I saw you looking over at me.
I didn’t want say or do anything.
I thought you’d make the first move.

I even noticed that you were sporting new a tattoo.
Liberated in bold letters across your right bicep.
Are you going butch on me now?
I’m sorry I didn’t mean that.
I’m just frustrated and confused.

So if you did it to pique my interest,
you succeeded.

Okay, listen you probably don’t think I’m serious.
and I don’t give you the attention you deserve.
I’m sorry, but I’ve been busy.
It’s hard, but you can come by any time.
We can work it out.

You know I need you and want you.
Alright!
So please stop by.
Okay, well I’ll be waiting for you.
Good-bye.

Sheesh! The things you have to say
to get your muse back.