You're on the phone with me
I'm on the phone with you
In two separate houses
In two separate rooms
I hear your mattress creak beneath you
and you hear mine
Our groans are a weird harmony
over the telephone line
You go silent for a time
all of you I know is the sound of your breath
and then it is my turn
as my mind spins and my fever burns
"Did you take your medicine?"
You ask me, before I have the chance to ask you.
"Yes...did you?"
"Yes."
And of all the things we have shared
I wonder aloud
Why must we have both gotten Lyme Disease
At the exact same time?
May 29, 2010
May 29, 2010 at 5:43 PM UTC
You're on the phone with me
I'm on the phone with you
In two separate houses
In two separate rooms
I hear your mattress creak beneath you
and you hear mine
Our groans are a weird harmony
over the telephone line
You go silent for a time
all of you I know is the sound of your breath
and then it is my turn
as my mind spins and my fever burns
"Did you take your medicine?"
You ask me, before I have the chance to ask you.
"Yes...did you?"
"Yes."
And of all the things we have shared
I wonder aloud
Why must we have both gotten Lyme Disease
At the exact same time?
Not much of a poem, but written from the trenches, as it were!