When a Stranger Calls

I look at my caller I.D.
I see that it's you.
Even your Sam's Club Calling Cards I have come to recognize. I tremble. I look around to see if you are watching me. There is nothing worse than being caught not taking a call.
My breath changes. My heart rate climbs slightly. Like just before going on stage. Adrenaline, I believe.
I contemplate. Do I have the time to talk? Do I have the time you want? Do I have anything to say? Do you have anything to say? Do I want to listen? Will you listen? Do you care? Do I care?
If I pick up, it's a 23 minute conversation about nothing. It has lasted 21 minutes too long. I have so much to say and fail to say it. I am certain you have so much to say and fail to know it. The phone lines seemed to be coated in a thick, slow moving sludge or syrup. We hang up.
If I don't pick up, weeks go by between calls. Not weeks, months. We both have learned not too try. Try too hard.
If you said all that I needed and wanted to hear, would I call you back? Would it make a difference? Would you feel comfortable calling me more?
If I said all that I needed and wanted you to hear would you pick up when I called? Would you want me to call more? Would I want to call more? Would the syrup and sludge be wiped away?

Ultimately, has anything really changed? 20 years ago, I wouldn't have called you and we lived in the same house. 20 years ago, you only ever called me when coaxed by my mother or the need for something.
Do we know each other? Do we have to know each other? Did we ever know each other? Will we ever know each other?
I owe you a call. Or do you owe me a call? How long would or could we go without a call?
You always were a stranger in my world, and I can't escape this feeling I get everytime a stranger calls.