It’s taken me so many calls to
get to you. Classical hold music crackles,
stale recording thanks me for calling
as I’m shuffled one department to another.
Hardware, software, special solutions.
You take my number and promise to stay
till the end, with no hint of exasperation.
Your vowels swing, soothing, across oceans, tilting
up each sentence before I repeat it back,
just to be sure. You told me your name,
once, but it was lost in the distance.
You know so much about me.
At hour three,
you tell me I’m good with computers,
as I stare at the unhealthy solid blue
glow my computer uses to fight back
against my abuse. It’s cute how
you say computer science. Are you flirting
with me? You browse my
folders remotely, searching for
the problem.
At hour six, you turn on
my webcam. You see me
in pajamas. Uncombed. Haggard.
I know nothing about you.
You say, I’ll call you back.
Still waiting.