I just called to tell you
Sue’s transferring soon
To tell you she’ll be gone
I just called because I was hoping
You’d want me to come over
I just called to tell you
I made you a tape of songs
Because I don’t like you
And I am so moving on
I just called because
There is a movie I thought you’d like
It’s playing Friday night
“Sick and Twisted” – just your type
If you’re not busy, of course
I just called to tell you
I got better things to do
Because my hormones are going crazy
And my body is this mass of sweaty tension
I just called because I’m still alone
My best friend’s still not speaking to me
And I don’t know why
I just called because
You make me forget myself
Your one-sided conversations consume
The air so I no longer have to breathe
I just called to tell you
I hate this war
I think we’re wrong
To tell you about the irony
I saw on the internet
“Make a pact against violence”
As we drop bombs on Kosovo
No double standard there
I just called to tell you
How drunk I wish I was
I watched Futurama again
Did you laugh at all the things
I imagine you’d be laughing at?
I just called – I know what you must think
Desperate girl – I must confess –
I was wrong about you & I being so right
I know you cannot be all the things I need
And that’s okay
I just called because I think
This friend thing is a joke
To tell you I don’t want you
Don’t want to touch your hands
Or your arms or your neck
I don’t want to kiss a man with facial hair
To feel your tongue behind those teeth – I don’t
I just called to say hi or hello
Or whatever excuse we use
To tell you about this new band
I heard his voice – makes me horny
To tell you I lied about how much I like yours
It’s only an eight – eight and a half at best
I just called because I was hoping
We’d really stay friends
And the time you need is finite
Enough to hang around for
To tell you how I prefer my space
Much better than change
Or laughing all the time or fucking
I prefer not to share or take any unnecessary risks
On a guy who can’t ever be serious
Or passionate or vulnerable
I just called to tell you
The check’s in the mail
And how I wish I lived in New York
Where people run into people on the street
But we stay in our cars and shop
In grocery stores the size of malls
I just called to ask if you were bored
And wanted some company
I hate your answering machine

This is a reprint of work originally published in Things Mean a Lot at the Time.

Sarah Thursday was mostly raised in Long Beach, California. She teaches 5th grade, is obsessed with music, and has only recently dived into poetry again. She has been published in Stylus, The Long Beach Union (CSULB), Brand New Retro, The Atticus Review, and an upcoming project called Please Judge: Short Stories Based on the Songs of Roky Erickson. She has also self-published five chapbooks over the years, The Perishing Hope of the Godless (1992), An Offering of Wisdom and Sorrow (1993), Trying to Tell You Something (1995), Things Mean a Lot at the Time (1999), and Healing the Heart of Ophelia (2001).

This entry was posted in Poetry, Reprint and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Excuses

  1. Pingback: Excuses | Sarah Thursday

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