I Want To Talk

I want a cigarette.
Maybe its the devil in me, or the idea that it'll take the edge off things.
I hit the CALL button on my phone again. A red sign pops up, signal busy. Another try and the same thing.
I just want to talk. Can't get through. So I just want to throw something. The devil under my surface trying to break through.
I need a cigarette. Maybe more. A smoking partner, too.
I want to talk.
A life coach would be good.
We'd talk about the strong defense that life is presenting against me. X's and O's.
He'd ask if I was ready. "Hell," I'd say, "Tougher times have enveloped me."
"Maybe a trick play," he would say.
"Fake out the world."
"Exactly. Show them something they've never seen before."
That's what I need. Pull and upset, I'm the kind who could.
And we'd talk about perseverance, a good word in times of fear. Noun- steady persistence in a course of action, a purpose, a state, etc., especially in spite of difficulties, obstacles, or discouragement.
All behind a cigarette, of course. Maybe a beer. To calm that devil in me.
This town can have that effect on people. Everyone here has got something to run from.
Me? Myself.
"I don't know what to do," I say to myself out loud as the BUSY sign pops up again.
The future has that effect on people. Confusion. These days I feel lost and incomplete. And the defensive line of life is rushing down on me. It's the warning sign. I'm in the envelope, covered, protected- for now anyways- but the protection is crumbling and my eyes are scanning, searching, for an escape route. X's and O's, life's as simple as that.
And this is the finale, the big play. My bones are shaking, sinking. Escape route. Hail Mary.
I wish I knew how to blow smoke rings. Good conversation starter.
I want to talk. To anyone who will listen. And listen good, not ignore, because nothings really don't make any sense for me anymore. Hail Mary.
I dial again and it rings.
The other end picks up and I want to talk but don't know what to say.