Horns of the Dilemma

When you’re on the phone
in the midst of a conversation
– maybe the conversation –
and you’re trying to say important things,
things that have perhaps been fomenting
longer than they should
like some toxic stew you just knew’d
be bad for you
but you can’t help taking a dangerous dollop of.

So you’re talking,
reporting serious statements,
trying to get to the bottom of
whatever it is
going on between the two of you
from whatever distance separates you
in the city
but the city is wide
and the city is loud
and the people all around you
on the street
out the window
in the apartments to the sides
on the floors
everyone everywhere
is making a noise
that distracts
from the point you wanted to make
and just when you’re trying to say something
really serious
that you’ve never shared before
when the Taxi Federation downstairs
blasts off with their honking.

And the other person
on the other end of the line
says she knows what you mean
about olive juice
and you feel
the city is trying to tell you something.

Not everyone is ready to hear
the same conversation.

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