RE: too much 411?

Daniel the neighbor
upstairs is prancing
like a Nazi
storm-trooper in high-heeled
boots.
Dancing more
pain into my
brain with each
staccato step.
Forcing me to awaken
far earlier than my god
Bacchus had intended.
After a trip
to my other god
he of porcelain utility
I notice my cell-phone
on the table
flipped open
among a pile of fritos.
Wiping it off
I see last night
I called Information
12 times.

While I am
forever a student
and you know me
as a man
seeking knowledge
this seems excessive
even for
a lover of extremes
like myself
May I enlighten?

I wanted to tell you
how much you missed me
How empty your life
is without me
How you're so gonna miss me
after I am gone
But I outfoxed
myself.
After my last
drunken
dialing
I deleted
all your numbers
from my phone
No way to tell
if your number is unlisted
No way to tell if
your line was busy
No way to tell
if my call went through
My cry
travels through
miles of unseen wiring
telegraphing
my graphic
desire
that is
unheard
unknown
unanswered
And that's the real 411


Copyright 2005 Shroud Press