Again, again, she calls me again…
A girl who idols me,
one who is just a friend.
But our past is long and etched in pen.
I whimper to my mother,
“My soul is barren, devoid of love.
I live in my parent’s house,
Where I float with nothing.
Not a kiss or a hug.
All I posses is my cave, my dwelling place.
To sit around in,
Alone and aloof,
My brain hurts,
with all my thoughts as proof.
I must depart, but how?
Tie to a job?
A club?
A date?
I don’t know…
Someone take away all this hate!”
She spoke scratchy silence,
Her honey hurting,
Pity, reverberating.
I ensue,
“Where can I rest?
A place all my own?”
I ask and I ask.
Her mouth, immobile.
She rises from my bed,
And embarks to her room,
With nothing but a single tear shed.
That’s okay,
I’ll go blacken my lungs by the lake.
To clear all my atrocious thoughts away.
I think those thoughts.
Until those thoughts that I think
Are three thousand thoughts from the thought
I originally thinked.
“Home is where the heart is.”
But my heart dwells abroad,
I want something imposing,
Splendid and noble,
Glory befalls those,
Who chase that fable…
I ring my mom after a day,
Buzz
Buzz
It goes to voicemail:
“Tag, you’re it”
-I say.
I waited around trying to find something to do.
A few hours go by and I get a call…
“Mother, I know what I am called to do,
I’ll travel the world
To find the place,
That place I never knew.
A place I’ll be made anew.
I hoped a plane,
Walking distance from a queen,
…August…
…September…
…October…
…November…
…It all feels just the same to me…
One more month until my return,
One more month,
And nothing has changed.
Vibrations buzz my leg;
My predecessor again.
I tell her of the scenes I’ve seen,
The folk,
The cuisine.
Through my voice,
Sounds of decay seep
Into her ears…
Her one and only fear.
Back I'll go, to the place I dread.
Back to a place where I’ll sit all day and lay in bed
For what? I don’t know.
But there’s something I long for.
Something I crave.
Love?
“Enjoy the last weeks, don’t just lay in bed.”
That wasn’t all she said.
“I won’t.”
I say
Ending the call,
With a brief “Love you” is all.
Love, I shall seek,
Maybe if I find a girl to marry,
A durable dwelling in rural London.
To create the wedding that’ll carry.
Now, who to wed?
So I don’t waste my days in bed.
Brooke seemed into you…
maybe not,
What about that girl from the club?
Gabby,
Gabrielle
Gabriella?
Eh, one of those.
Maybe I’ll find my home with her.
Let’s give her a ring.
Again,
Again,
I call her again.
…
…
…
Again,
Again,
I call her again—
An answer.
She tells me it’s not meant to be.
And I still couldn’t tell you
If her name ended with an “a” or an “e”.
I’ll fly back to where I’m from
Hopeful of progress
I return,
Progress paused.
Why did I assume?
More time goes by
Melancholy slips back in.
A failed romance,
And a separate will commence.
I think I found it.
The one familiar seat,
Behind a steering wheel,
Free to chant and swing,
To the cursed beat.
I look at my phone to
See my mother’s name,
I wish she’d understand
Where my mind has been.
I fled the house in a heat,
Frustrations a-stirring.
To meet with a wise man who came to restore me.
I asked him his name and he gave a quick chuckle,
“My friends call me Santa.”
Without hesitation or mumble.
The name, false.
The persona, true.
From his head to his heart,
He was Saint Nicholas through and through.
My car broke down
He took me in.
Handed me currency.
Etched with a phrase that will never unpin.
“Nothing changes, if nothing changes”
A warning to elevate my frown.
No insult or lash on the cheek,
Only love
For a child so weak.
Again,
Again,
She calls me again
She mended my motor,
Phone call after phone call
Employees, Managers, and even CEOs.
She fought to oust my strain.
That was when
We hugged again.
I fall in love again,
Loathed by love,
She refuses to gaze my way.
Again, again
I called her again.
…
…
…
Again, again
I called her again.
…
…
…
Again, again
I called her again.
Until my rings turned to fury
My heart’s pain boiling over.
I went to Santa.
My tongue a-frenzy
“I hate her,
Arrogant woman,
Why did I give her such a fright?”
…
…
…
…
…
He merely smirked and spoke
“Hate is not the truth,
For fondness and fury are akin
You may not differentiate,
because of your wounds within.”
…
…
Release he says.
So we made our day mutilating melons
With a gray-haired baseball bat.
My feelings of hate. All dissipate.
I glance my phone.
A message from mom,
Of love and affection.
Love I wished from her,
Self Important slut,
Makes me so irate.
I knew it was time,
I had to move on.
Burn the bridge with her,
Find a girl who will fawn.
I picked up my phone,
To call my mother,
Call her again
And tell her of the daughter
Who caused my mental torment—
Again. Again.
I call her again.
…
…
…
Again. Again.
I call her again.
And again,
She submits her ear to me.
…
….
…..
……
…….
……..
I whip the wheel round,
Hastened homeward,
My home,
Speeding back to where I’m from.
3 hounds tongues greet my face.
Back at this old familiar place.
A tackle to and fro.
The only home that I know.
My eyes glance up,
There she is,
The woman who raised me,
And always filled my cup.
She wraps around me,
With a kiss on my face.
We laugh and weep
Stories of memory
Dimple my cheeks.
A laugh.
A hug,
A song to sing,
And celebration to bring.
Curled on her shoulder,
I say but a peep.
A promise,
One I intend to keep…
“Again and again,
I’ll call you again…
Again and again,
I’ll call you again.”
About the Creator
Mason Aksamit
Born in Hartford, CT and raised in Denver, CO. Mason has always had a passion for comedy and historical fiction. The craft of storytelling is what he loves, and telling great stories that change people for the better is his goal.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.