One Single Impression: Notebook
A text message came in the middle of the night
From a stranger:
se vc adivinhar quem e te dou um presente...
(Guess who you are and give you a gift)
A little later, another invitation:
tomorrow good game at New Haven
7 pm YALE vs QUINNIPIAC
if u want to come
Que o que?
What's ur name?
I asked first.
Minutes passed, and then:
Are you DIEGO,,
Nor am I Estaban,
who had this number before me.
Guess who you are and give you a gift....
Note: This is a found poem based on some errant text messages that came my way from two different Connecticut phone numbers the other day. I felt like an unintentional voyeur as I read mail intended for someone else. I thought I would just ignore them, but then, they seemed like such nice invitations that it would be a same if the sender thought the intended recipient were ignorming him or her. So I sent the "wrong number" message. I was surprised when the other party responded with questions about who I am. It was so odd. I thought how we are anonymous on a cell phone; there's no tracing us (easily), and there's no real estate attached to the number beyond the area code--which really indicates where the account was opened, not where the subscriber lives. Still, I didn't want to tell my name. It was all very strange and very lonely. I hope whoever this giver of a gift is finds the right person.One Single Impression