The short, stout man looked straight into my eyes.
Critical, should call your father,
now, today, tomorrow.
I entrusted my face with the chore of maintaining
a calmness, a serenity.
My mind was roiling around a shallow pond
that which contained a drop of the most malicious poison.
Nothing escapes from the truth,
I left this poem in the air,
as my cellphone burbled out a warbly girl pop ringtone.
I was licking the chocolate off a stick...
I picked up the cell, and the silence on the other end...
I lept up in my semi-pajamas, for I was naked waist down,
pulled on my jeans and grabbed my sandals, for the shoes would have taken up seconds,
I ran out the door, forgetting to close the barn door.
I stumbled into the lift, and tapped my foot as the doors closed, the plunge took hold.
The taxi was only seconds behind me and bless the driver for being at the right place/right time.
The call came as I rounded a corner.
She didn't have to say anything, I was almost sure looking at the caller Id. And when she said "Its confirmed". I didn't believe it.
It was as simple as that. I couldn't believe it, I didn't believe it. And even now, having seen her... How can I believe it? She is the Grand old dame. THE only dame left! And there wrapped up in the modern interpretation of the Mummy.