why i listen

when she calls
and i hear her
voice, i cringe.
i find a seat,
pour a cup of
coffee, or make
a drink, depending
on the day, or
hour of the day
she calls on.
but it's trouble.
a kid gone
wrong, a dog
in the highway,
an aunt or sister
with lupus.
uncle jimmy lost
everything in
the market, and
the neighbors house
burned down
and showered her
garden with ashes
and soot. but i
listen. she doesn't
want advice, or
comfort, or for
me to pray for
her. she just wants
my ears. to hear
me on the other
line, giving her
the time of day.
and that's enough.
she won't be around
forever.