Dial

She only ever called me

When she was drunk

And looking for a fight.

I answered every time

Which I suppose

Said just as much

About me

As it did

About her.

They weren’t real fights though

I’d had enough of those

To know.

These were arguments

An outlet

Somewhere for her to vent

When a night didn’t go her way.

Judging from my call log

Not many nights

Went her way.

Mostly I was alone

When she called

But every now and then

Another woman

Would be next to me

Say to me

“Do you need to get that?”

Of course, I didn’t.

I never needed to

Yet I always did.

Sometimes it was about me

Often just about men

My kind

Who she decided

I represented.

Drunk but coherent

She had never been short a word.

Often, I would agree

Because it was easier

To agree

But sometimes

I’d fight back

Defend myself

My constituents.

What else

Was I doing?

Most of the time

She was just pre-dawn audio

A familiar noise

Coming down the line.

But every now and then

She would call to announce

That she was coming over.

Never a question —

She dealt only in statements

Never an invitation —

She wouldn’t have accepted one

Yet I didn’t mind.

She would buzz the intercom

Smile into the camera

A mask of innocence

Not caring where I had been

Or what

I had been doing.

I would let her in

Every time

Because although I’m not sure

Of much

I’m sure

You don’t leave beauty

On the street.

But above all

It let her in

Because

This was when we

Squared the ledger.

Much has been written

About payment for sex

But much less

About sex for payment.

She would slap

I’d choke

She’d spit words

Dripping with vitriol.

But like everything

About her

It was all for show.

She just wanted to know

That she existed

That someone saw her

That she wasn’t

Completely alone.

I guess that was why

I answered

When she called

Drunk

Looking for a fight.