142 Star 69

Late, we decided to part
but not before exchanging basic information.
After providing me the eleven digits
she watched me put the information
onto my offsite memory receptacle.
Then I dialed her number
as she wondered what game I was playing.

“Why isn’t it ringing?”
she asked, quizzically staring at her phone.
I had no answer,
just a growing concern
that I had mistyped her data,
mistyped her number,
misunderstood the dynamic
at which we both played.

I glanced at my phone
to check just what
I was calling
only to see that the time
was one forty two
in the morning.
I was calling some number
at this ungodly hour
and prayed to that very nonexistent deity
that a stranger would not pick up.

I found myself
unable to breathe
as I checked the number
fearing the wrath of the furious cop
whom I had just awoken
after a three-day stakeout.
The imagined officer
would know of star sixty nine
and find me
and explaining that I had misdialed the cute girl’s number
would not in any way save me.

But the call was simply delayed
and her phone rang
and I hung up
before so picked up
and we had successfully discovered
each other’s personal information.

What else we would discover
remained to be seen
until some future point.

About Jonathan Berger

I used to write quite a bit more.
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