she kept saying…,I’m not here…I’m not here…,whispered it as we spoke on the phone…a 1,000 miles away…asked her what she meant by that…just silence…cold silence…

she talked ’bout this man she had…some driver…used to move cars from one end of america to the other…said she really loved him…said he was the true one…

he’d always call her every night from the road…they spoke in a language only they understood…all mysterious and foriegn to the human ear…made them both long for each other…

this went on for years she said…this affair…could always count on him to come ’round…usually the beginning of the month…’times he’d surprise her and just show up on her door when the Moon was full and the cicadas would be singing up a storm…she’d let him in…

and i wondered if she was telling me the truth…’bout this man who drove back and forth ‘cross america…wondered if she made the whole thing up…when i was a kid she’d tell me stories…made up right on the spot as she held me in her arms…things you remember…

so…one day he stopped calling her…didn’t show up at her door at the first of the month…nor any other time she said…just cut her off completely…didn’t know what happened to him…didn’t know if he was still alive or not…took time…but after awhile she quit caring…said she quit caring…

she kept saying…, I’m not here…I’m not here…,whispered it as we spoke on the phone…a 1,000 miles away…