Ting-Ting

The ting-ting of a text

alerts me to you, so

far away and free.

“Baby, I met someone—

can I play? I

love you xxx”

My fingers suddenly

can’t cope with the

small keyboard.

“Q Who is it?

Where are you going? I

love you xxx.”

Busy screen goes blank

incapable of computing—

ting-ting

“Just someone, his

hotel room, sorry

horny as hell xxx”

Ting-ting “Want me to

remember how the

camera works on this thing?

Lol. Lift—fuck

elevator—shit--

fingers in me!”

Coffee, walk down the hall.

Ting-ting, “Big suite, big

cock;) Love you xxx”

Coffee cold, need

cigarette, an hour passing

somehow. Ting-ting

“Any chance of that report? J.C.

getting antsy. Best.”

Ting-ting “Honey

can he have my ass? He’s

had everything else;)

Have photos!! xxx”

“TY for report—jeez you should

try spellcheck:( Best” Ting-ting

“Sending photos, fucked out!

Call me, reclaim me, my love.”

Ting-ting “Get yr ass up here. Boss wants 

pow-wow: bring wampum.”

CANNOT OPEN FILE “Baby

I’ll call...” LOW BATTERY 

Long walk down corridor

long wait for elevator—shit,

lift...whatever...long, long

night ahead.