No, you have the wrong number,

though you sound open as a state on the plains, a tall man
strolling into town for directions and refresement. I step out
from the dark behind the phone, offering a cool drink,
rangeland under my apron. I can hear your eyes
on the line grow wide, like the moment grows wide--
then the click, dead air, and a dust storm.

Kathleen Flenniken lives in Seattle. She drives her family around in a van that's a lot like a bus.