I was finishing the leftover blooming onion
from last night’s meal out
or bloody onion as I call it
washing it down with some coffee
that was good ‘til the last drop indeed
when I got a call on my phone
from an old ‘friend’
so old in fact I didn’t recognize his name or number
not sure how he got my number
a guy who I used to work with in a warehouse
loading trucks with little gray totes
full of canned goods and antidotes
he said he saw one of my short stories
in a magazine and wondered how I was doing
//////////
I told him I wrote poems and articles, I was fine
he said that was cool
we chatted for a little bit
and I was waiting for it
he tried to be seemingly casual about it
when he mentioned he was working
as a vice-president for some wall street firm
(everyone’s who’s worked there a week is at least a vice-president)
and asked if I did any type of investing
I said I was standing on my …..tiptoes
barely keeping my head above water
he could barely conceal his disappointment
he said something about it being important
and that I should get with him in case
I do want to do some investing later on
in a tone of voice far different than the ‘Hey buddy!’
tone he was using in our previous conversation
after a couple more words,
he said he had another call coming in
and had to go—-uh huh
keep walking old ‘buddy’
don’t let the phone hit you in the ass
on the way out
