the mirrors and the unacknowledged nods
dial tones and license plates
the words you didn't choose
everything the day's too small to hold spills on to the dusk
and shorts the evening's fuse
so you fumble for a voice and sing "happy birthday"
read it to yourself again
the stories always end the same
she can't stay and he won't run
and fear is where they're calling from
staunch the blood from countless tiny cuts
we're all out of bandages
the heaters rattle taunt
sifting through translucent shards of glass
looking for a filament that lit the life you want
so you fumble for the phone, grasp the cord and pull
will your readership complain
the stories always end the same
he can't stay and she won't run
and fear is where they're calling from
afraid is where you're calling from