< eL Diluvio
Published September 11 2023
New York City

Collect Call

You wouldn't mind being on the run if you at least brought your notebook. Something about these police sirens is inspiring you.

But they're also putting you to sleep. Lullabies, like ice cream trucks.

You lost them, easy now. I don't recognize this part of town, yet I know exactly where I'm going. Not even a pen in the glove compartment?

You pull in to the driveway of a pink home with cacti in front. Cacti. I love the sound of tires over gravel.

Wow this driveway is long. The house doesn't seem to be getting any closer.

Finally. You jump off your horse and tie it up to the side of the house. Give him a rub of the muzzle and tell him to keep his eyes peeled. God's best getaway driver.

"Hello, is anybody home?" Your voice echoes through the house.

"Honey, is that you?"

Your wife is there. She's got the home phone cradled to her neck and she's twirling the line around her fingers. She's prettier than you remember. Those red, puffy eyes.

You walk right up to her and steal the pen and pad she was doodling on. She's got something written on there. Numbers for divorce lawyers which you'll figure out on next month's phone bill.

Wait a minute, this isn't paper. It's a photo of your uncle and his bastard son. Better looking than any of your real cousins, your mother used to say.

And this is no pen. It's the phone line and it's wrapped around your wife's blue neck. You promise her it's cheaper this way.

Just grab the tattoo fun and head out. Don't worry. The good ideas always come back.