Phone Conversation

She’s on the phone.

I like it.

I don’t eavesdrop.

Doesn’t matter what she’s saying.

I just like hearing her voice

Speaking to someone.

Her laughter.

She’s in my bed.

I can hear her

Through the Vermont White Pine floorboards

Laid down

With handforged flat head nails

In the early 1800’s.

It makes me warm.

Like sitting in front

Of a smoldering hearth.

Of which I could be.

But I’m not.

It’s 5º outside.

This house is old and cold.

She has a wonderful

Dirty laugh

Which I’m fond of.

It makes the draft

Coming through these

Ancient windows and doors

A little easier

To bear.