the greyhound bus station

on the bathroom
wall, or rather on
the old metal stall
partition at the grey
hound station, where
cleanliness and God
have not been for
some time, you see
a familiar phone number
scrawled in
smudged blue ink. it's
your ex wife's old
number, so you call
and ask her how things
are going with the
new husband, the new
house, the vacation
they took to spain
and morocco. she says
fine. that's her word.
i'm fine, everything
is fine. we are all
just fine. and by
the way, you still owe
me one check. you
don't answer to that
though, you tell her
you have to go, it's
been nice chatting,
and you're very happy
that she's fine, but
you really have to go,
you're late, and you
have a bus to catch.