Mike Demyan's Landline by Ryan Buynak

Mike Demyan's Landline

The call came from an unknown

Calais, Vermont number, and there's

only one academic/poet/music/collage artist

I know who live in those necks of woods.

I had to call him back,

as I was dealing with a personal matter,

but what a joyful phone call,

to have break up the monotony of pandemic life.

When I call him back.

it rings forever, and he answers startled

at the landline, which I laugh at,

because I'd love to throw my iPhone in a river forever.

We spoke of Portuguese translations;

I smoke weed while we speak,

then I put away the dishes loudly,

but listening, because I am laughing so much.

I tell him that Coyote Blood Press

would put out anything, any kind of book

he wants to make, because hell,

I put out a book of silly yet therapeutic lists.

We admit Portuguese translations

won't sell, but who cares; we can do whatever,

and Mike is a killer in the word game.

The dude can spin a poetic web of wonder and he is wicked smart.

Sadly reminisced about the New York

Poetry Festival, which would've been last

weekend, he references a picture of us

and Drag and BVR in the bathtub at KGB bar.

He told me he has to give a speech

at a wedding this Saturday,

but had just found out

he is the Best Man yesterday.

I drop a glass but catch it right before

it smashes and I am so proud of myself, my heroics,

but Mike doesn't hear

and I don't mention it.

Twenty seconds later,

I drop a ceramic ramekin and it breaks,

and I am sad because I stole that ramekin

from Alice's Tea Cup a long time ago.

From quarantine dreams,

we ride bikes in conversation,

back and forth, wild and wonderful,

simple and happy.

Mike suggests the new Perry Mason adaptation

on HBO and I agree to watch it after I finish

this show I am watching a woman picked,

so it's my turn next, I guess.

An hour and a half has gone by,

and I can't think of anything more poetically productive

than chatting aimlessly and earnestly,

but with purpose, with a pal.

I feel like there is a ghost friend

in this house with me now;

the blinds move on their own and the tv turns on,

Mike guesses right that it's Home Shopping Network.