Hello Mrs. Robinson

Doug - I see his pant legs. I see the wooden chair legs. I see the screen door through which he just entered the room. He moves across the room towards me - hurrying back with the misplaced credit card. I wonder why I see Doug from ground level?

Rita has a mahogany desk. And gold-rimmed glasses. An expensive pen catches the light as she moves it across the papers before her. Her hair is up - elegant and silver. I stand behind her and watch her work.

Carol has reddish brown hair - cut short with some bounce to it. She's on the cordless, in the kitchen.

Their voices bend my ear drums, but I never see their faces. Not even in my imagination. But the phone just keeps on ringing and I just keep on answering. One more person getting one more gift for one more grandchild or child or parent or sibling.

And the phone just keeps on ringing.

Hello Ms. Phillips. You live in Champaign, Illinois? What can I get for you? And you need it before Christmas? Yes, yes, of course. Why, thank you and you too.

And one more person - an unfathomable sum of events and chemicals and compounds and spirit and mind and emotions - one more person fades into the recesses of my computer - 10010111010.

And the phone just keeps on ringing.

posted by Headless-in-GR @ 12/11/2004 02:33:00 PM