transcption of a phone call at the end of a poem about coffee and the end of smmer

I am poison

I am filled with poison

no,  just coffee to much coffee

and lots of late nights

the summer is almost at an end

and I can not stand the thought

of it

 the change in the air

the dry coolness that will mean another year has

passed 

weather purgatory will set in

 I will see the mainland much clearer

 I am empty right now

 

 the profound fulfillment of keyboarding

I love to go like this

 

the feel of the keyboard 

C.S.R recording phone conversations

'I have an odd request"

'Ok"

"I need three rooms on September 6th"

"That will be tough, most hotels have a

two night minimum"

"I know"

"Try the hotel Macrae"

"My mom is to old"

"Try the pavilion dial 310 510 2000

that is their corporate head quarters

when the recording comes on to tell you that

they are closed push 2339 it should connect you"

'Thank You"

"My pleasure"

connect you connect you

I want to feel connected

to you 

if  just for

a second can you hear me typing as we are speaking?

no, you are talking to some one else in the room on your end

the sound of your voice makes me think of air conditioners  and townhouses by the 405 freeway

and easy chairs and dim lights and oxygen tanks and I am glad I am not you