A simple request
Crescendoes like a quick-approaching thunderstorm,
Soon erupts in a yelling match.
Our nerves perk, alert to the challenge, the cumbersome or unknown,
Irritated words popping out of our mouths like squeezed pimple pus.
“Better reschedule that appointment
Since you’re staying up late anyway…”
“ But how? But why?”
“It’s on your phone.”
“But how? But didn’t we get that paper in the mail?!”
“No, that was something else. It’s on your phone!”
“Look, here’s the paper!”
“I know, but that’s not what you need now! It’s on your phone!”
“But is it a text or an email?!”
“I don’t know! You made the appointment! Dammit, It’s on your phone!”
“BUT HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW?! YOU DIDN’T TELL ME IF IT WAS AN EMAIL OR TEXT!”
“BECAUSE I DIDN’T KNOW! YOU MADE THE APPOINTMENT! IT WAS ON YOUR PHONE!”
It always ends with one of us, usually me, storming away to seethe,
Throwing “I LOVE YOU!” like a punch through strained cords and clenched teeth,
Finally calming enough to sleep,
Then to wake and breathe
And shake my head as I see
Our storm was pouring from clouds of anxiety.