I believe it was you,

who called just now,

rang and rang my phone

but hung up on its answering machine

as I ran through the hall

naked,

my hair soaked, raining down,

my skin exploding in goosebumps;

ran to get to your voice

but, standing bare and alone,

all I got was a click of goodbye,

so I ask that the next time—

the next time I'm running through the hall

naked

soaked

exploding—

to get to some of your beautiful words,

please

do leave a message.