wrong number

sometimes we refuse to listen to what's being said

wrong number

overstuffed overfed i sat in my
favorite chair watching the summer sun
set when the phone rang hello someone said
collect call from your son will you accept
i said of course i would and a voice
much like my son's began talking

dad i've got something to say
i think that i am...

as i listened i glanced out the window
and saw my neighbor's grandchildren tussling
on the lawn across the street tattered candy wrappers
pirouetted in the wind darkness settled on my lawn
i felt chilled and thought i smell winter

i looked at the receiver noises still
belched from it i hung up the phone and sighed
rocking her chair knitting something for her sister
Carrie calmly asked who called

i stared out the window knew the meaning
of night turned to her and quietly said

wrong number