Narrative Set In A Blank House
I've felt quite lonely lately.
It really puts the plight of the lonely in perspective.
I don't like it much.
It's rather boring.
You see, not much happens to a lonely man.
Anyhow, I have a friend named Ted.
He lives in Halifax.
Disliking the weather, I gave him a call.
I said, 'Hello, Ted. How are you? '
'Quite alright.' I think he said something like that.
'I feel a bit lonely, ' I said after a bit.
I recall him chuckling. 'What for? '
'I don't know.'
'Well, ' he replied, 'you got me, you know.'
'I think.' I recall pausing, to think.
I just wasn't sure. You know how that is, right?
'What do you mean? ' he asked, as a friend would ask.
'Well, ' I replied,
'I think you are why I'm lonely.'
He laughed again. Ted was a laugher.
'Why's that Jim? '
I paused again. 'Because you died, Ted.
Ten years ago.
And I'm standing here, receiver in hand,
The tone in my ears,
And your voice in my head.'
He paused. I paused. We both paused.
There was pausing enough to stop time.
And then he said, 'Wow, you must be lonely.'
Sunday, February 28, 2010