All would be better if the phone call went differently 20 years ago.
If I hadn’t waited for him to call. If he didn’t take so long to call me.
But I didn’t understand. I didn’t forgive. I reacted.
The summer was lonely when it shouldn’t have been.
Now, an envy emerges near my belly button
when I see myself in a younger form
who made a better decision.
I clean now beside my younger selves.
Waiting for messes.
Waiting for the phone to ring.