I was telling her about the lease—

I was telling her about the lease—

not mine, hers, the new landlord

trying to sneak a clause past her—

and I heard myself say

don't let him walk over you,

in the voice that means I know,

the voice that arrives already dressed,

already at the window.

She went quiet. That particular quiet

that means she's done, that means she'll say

okay in a minute and get off the phone

as fast as she can without it sounding like away.

I pressed the phone harder against my ear.

I said are you still there?

She said okay.

The same way I used to say it.