Anastasia Clark


The ride home is torturous,
As I palm the cell phone
There on the seat.

The treat of "minutes"
Like chocolate sweets-
At a dollar per bite.
Just the sight
Of it
Stirs the saliva.
So I drive deprived.

It looks back at me-
And winks-  I think.
Forty five minutes
A very long time
To resist the urge to call.
After all,
That's what it's for.
I rationalize-
With hungry eyes.

The yellow lights
Tempt in their glow,
But I gotta know-
Did the mailman come?
Shouldn't I call someone?
Anyone?  Hello? HELLO?
The red light fires NO.
Let go! LET GO!

200 minutes
My benefactor warns me.
That's it. The limit. Then quit.
Spoken by Sis-
The one with the contract,
Who might retract
The gift-
The gift that
Drives me mad.

How I wish I had-
Two cans instead.

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