Ring, Ring, Ring is a prose poem by Jack Rusher, published here Monday, January 08, 2007. It is part of Poems.
Answers.
Ring, ring. Ring goes the mobile phone on the desk. I’m washing the dishes, three days worth of dishes, ten paces away at the sink. I’ll return the call when I’m done, maybe after I make something to eat. Or go for a walk.
Ring, ring. Pause. Beep.
An operator routing a person to person call.
I dry my hands, walk to the desk, pick up the phone, and switch to the missed call menu. Caller ID says the number was +1 414 213 5623. Where is that? Google tells me the 414 area code is assigned to Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
Milwaukee? I don’t know anyone in Milwaukee. I’ve never even been to Milwaukee.
The number is kinda familiar, though.
Milwaukee?
It rings again, the noise and vibration startling my hand. Same number, +1 414 213 5623. Again, I don’t answer. Again, it beeps.
Milwaukee? I don’t know anyone in Milwaukee.
While staring at the screen, the number looks familiar. Walking back to the sink, the number still looks… wait, I do know it. It’s the (square) root of (we) two. I’ve been waiting thirty years for this call.
I call back, but it’s busy. I call back. I call back, but it’s busy, and then there’s no answer.