Fashion Statement

Wrong Number


Angry woman on phoneShe clasps her genteel fingers around the receiver
playing with her hair
she smiles deliciously and says

– I don’t know.

Then huskily laughs as she turns
to sit on her quaint little couch
plopping her feet up with her knees bent
she feigns innocence as she retorts

– I told you, I don’t know.

She raises her lanky arm
over her forehead and
closes her eyes
bursting in hysterical laughter
she flings out her arm and
sits straight up like a shot

– You’ll do what? Do it. I dare you.

Her eyebrow is raised in wicked delight
she slowly lies back down
propping one hand behind her head

– Um…that will be the day.

Her eyes suddenly narrows and
with that round-the-way twang
she taunts loudly

– For the last time, he’s not here. And until you
start acting like a father, stop calling
him your son!

With an abrupt fling, the phone flies
to the other side of the quaint little couch
she stares aimlessly until a small voice interrupts

– Momma?

There is silence

– Momma?

She turns to the little figure
bearing the biggest brown eyes
and graceful long lashes

– What baby?

– Who was that?

– Umm…wrong number.


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