Friday at 6 pm,

another promised call

in your last letter.

This week

I weave

in and out of spaces

left by mobs

cluttering the paths,

breathing in the coming weekend’s relief

after that damned history test.

I hail a taxi

and rattle through highways

congested with rush-hour vermin



lunging forward

dodging pedestrians and stray dogs

and a hundred

apathetic potholes.

Finally, I implore the driver

to stop; the walk to the house feels

like forever, thoughts of you

prodding me


The door gives way

as a shrill ringing propels me inside;

ignoring a stubbed toe,

a bruised elbow from my flight,

I grab the receiver.

My breath is caught

at the sound

of your voice.


How are you’s,


you sound tired’s

haltingly inquired.

Such a waste

on perfunctory greetings


for the sake of politeness.

The rustling begins as he asks

about the new puppy

and Aunt Elsie’s move to New York.

I throw to the winds all courtesy

and shout through the noise

whether he missed me.

The line goes dead.

The static could have been there

right from the start.

University tops Electrical Eng'g licensure exam


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