the check is in the mail

after a week

of dragging out the publisher's

clearing house

scam

on the phone, using my Emily
Wilson voice,

i begin to tire.

i may be losing my marbles too.

he goes by the name of David

Cooper,

with a thick

Jamaican accent.

i've reported his

number, his mule address

to the authorities,

his bank account information.

what more

can i do, to end this charade?

but he wants

so badly

to give me the new Mercedes,

the five point four

million dollars, and deposit

the five

thousand dollars a month

into my checking account.

what am i to do?

He says he's a 
Baptist minister and believes

in God, and the salvation

of Jesus.

i hear dogs barking in his yard,

roosters crowing.

a child screaming

for something.

he gives me a recipe for soup.

he tells me to get

some rest and be thankful

for what's coming next.

he tells me that he loves me.

sweet dreams, he says

before reluctantly hanging up.

he'd be a wonderful man

if he wasn't a lying thief

preying on old people,

never uttering a single word

of truth.