You have left me many voice mails.
You just wanted to know what was going on.
I can’t believe You still leave voice mails. What is that?
I feel a rush of affection for You, because You leave voice mails.
Sometimes in the voice mails You describe what you are looking at.
You are narrating a scene for me.
There is a couple dancing below the train tracks, You tell me.
They want to be ironic but they are so in love they are not.
There is a little boy holding a pigeon in Washington Square Park.
Now the little boy is setting the pigeon free.
Now is he walking away with his mother.
He is looking back at the pigeon.
The pigeon is unidentifiable among a family, a league of city pigeons.
Call me, please, You say.