Your Call is Important to Us.
You are being held in a Q.
You are Number Four Hundred and Eighty Two. Please hold.
Hold what?
Your hand, reaching out so tenderly to me?
My call,
so important to you, waiting, while Vivaldi plays again,
crackling, slightly distorted, for another ten minutes or so,
and during all that time
I am held and important to you
– me: Number Four Hundred and Eighty Two.
I feel so cherished.
How did you know The Four Seasons is my favourite?
Chosen, especially for me, while I wait,
being held, for another ten minutes or so
beginning to forget why I rang,
just enjoying the sheer pleasure of the holding,
in a Q by you,
knowing that I am the person whose call is important to you
– me: Number Four Hundred and Eighty Two.
I wait, another half hour or so,
until sadly, with the utmost finality
Vivaldi ends with a sudden unexpected click.
The phone bleats.
I finally realise what perhaps I should have known all along:
no one is holding me now
– me: Number Four Hundred and Eighty Two.
