I Prefer Not to Know

the house phone downstairs rang.
i ignored it, let it go to the machine.

less than one minute later, it rang again.
maybe it was important. i ran downstairs.

(just missed it as it went to voicemail.)

“hi barb and greg, it’s linda. just calling to
see that we’ve still got our plans straight

for tomorrow. we’ll be up until 10:30
if you want to call back. thanks. bye.”

(or something like that.)

but this part: “we’ll be up until 10:30.”
how do they know they’ll be up until then?

it must be weird to have plans like that:
to know just what will happen, and when.

(my life has never been so simple.)

i walk back upstairs with a tissue, twisted
and stuffed up each nostril to stop the drip.


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