A Random Call Poem by Keith Sutton

He called again—
a random call
from the dark recesses
of the night.

The first call came at 1 a.m.
and he asked for pizza
I told him I didn’t have any
but if I did he could have it.

He called back at 3 a.m.
and we talked for an hour.

The next night he called
at 3
and I answered

I always answer—
the familiar lonely voice
among voices
over the phone.

He talks about nickels and dimes
and pounds
and I understand
I have walked in his shoes.

He says he isn’t stoned—
He is
He asks and
I answer “I’m not either”

We both wonder
who we are talking to.

He is intrigued
for some reason
as am I
as girls giggle in the background.

I am a adult
(supposedly)
and he growing to be a man.

I will talk
until he is satisfied
because what he needs
surpasses my needs.

Perhaps
this is what I need
what I have missed.

The interaction
of the next generation
who I so connect with.

and for this
I live year by year.

to reach them in some way.

for this
I live to teach.