(no subject)
Jul. 1st, 2004 08:15 amWhat's Your Case Number?
On the phone she leaves a message
"Hi, this is Beverly remember me?
I was in last week. Give me a call.
I have some questions about my goods."
I listen and grow saddened.
I don't remember you.
You were only a face.
I see hundreds each year.
"But I have no money.
I'm about to lose my house.
There's no food. My child
grows sicker each day. Help."
She thinks she's unique.
She thinks I'd remember.
Perhaps I should. But I don't.
She's like all the rest.
Faces, all faces.
They blur over the hours.
"I saw you yesterday. Remember?"
No, I don't. I don't at all.
On the phone she leaves a message
"Hi, this is Beverly remember me?
I was in last week. Give me a call.
I have some questions about my goods."
I listen and grow saddened.
I don't remember you.
You were only a face.
I see hundreds each year.
"But I have no money.
I'm about to lose my house.
There's no food. My child
grows sicker each day. Help."
She thinks she's unique.
She thinks I'd remember.
Perhaps I should. But I don't.
She's like all the rest.
Faces, all faces.
They blur over the hours.
"I saw you yesterday. Remember?"
No, I don't. I don't at all.