<addonizio's "the call"> 2006-08-16.12:17 p.m. The Call Kim Addonizio A man opens a magazine, women with no clothes, their eyes blacked out. He dials a number, hums a commercial under his breath. A voice tells him he can do anything he wants to her. He imagines standing her against a wall, her saying Oh baby you feel so good. It's late. The woman on the phone yawns, trails the cord to the hall to look in on her daughter. She's curled with one leg off the couch. The woman shoulders the receiver, tucks a sheet and whispers Yes. Do it. Yes. She goes to the kitchen, opens another Diet Pepsi, wonders how long it will take him and where she can find a cheap winter coat. Remembering the bills she flips off the light. He's still saying Soon, turning his wheelchair right, left, right. A tube runs down his pants leg. Sometimes he thinks he feels something, stops talking to concentrate on movement down there. Hello, the woman says. You still on? She rubs a hand over her eyes. Blue shadow comes off on her fingers. Over the faint high hiss of the open line she hears the wheels knock from table to wall. What's that, she says. Nothing, he tells her, and they both listen to it. back /& forth /& frosting names are often sad