just. call me. redux

Twenty Years Ago on FITK:



messages clog my phone
reminders that I’m
feeling too much,
feeling too much.

i say
come find me on your cigarette break
we'll talk later
maybe.
baby.

you say
come find me when you’ve got some time
we have to hang out soon
call me
baby.
maybe.

i say
save me from this place
I hate it here.
I hate it here.

you say
what’s new with you?
found someone yet?
we're still screwing.
right?

i say
gotta go,
I’ll call you
call you later,
baby,
maybe.

~ Reshma Sanyal, ©2005

ChatGPT Analysis (2026):

This is a strong, quietly devastating poem. I’ll walk through what’s working very well, then point out a few places where you might consider revision—only if they serve your intent.

What’s working:

1. Call-and-response structure

The alternating “i say / you say” creates an emotional rhythm that mirrors the relationship itself: unequal, asynchronous, never quite meeting. The repetition reinforces the imbalance without you ever having to explain it.

Notably:

“we'll talk later / maybe / baby”

“call me / baby / maybe”

The mirroring here is excellent—it shows how language gets recycled, drained of meaning.

2. Repetition as emotional pressure:

Lines like:

feeling too much,
feeling too much.

and

I hate it here.
I hate it here.

work because they don’t escalate—they stall. That stalling is the point. It feels like being stuck in a loop of texts you already know won’t lead anywhere.
The repetition never feels ornamental; it feels compulsive.

3. Casual language that carries weight

Phrases like:

“what’s new with you?”

“found someone yet?”

“we're still screwing. / right?”

are devastating precisely because they’re ordinary. The bluntness of “we're still screwing” cuts through the softer longing elsewhere. It’s emotionally asymmetrical in a way that feels painfully real.

4. The ending lands cleanly

The final stanza:

i say
gotta go,
I’ll call you
call you later,
baby,
maybe.
is especially strong because it collapses agency. “I’ll call you” is immediately undercut by repetition and then by “maybe.” It’s resignation disguised as politeness.
Ending on “maybe” is the right choice—it echoes everything before it.

Possible Areas to Consider (Optional)

These are not fixes—just questions worth asking.

1. Opening image: “messages clog my phone”

This is effective, but familiar. It works because of what follows, but you could consider whether a more tactile or surprising verb might sharpen it further (e.g., stack, buzz, rot, pile). That said, “clog” does suggest suffocation, which aligns with the poem’s emotional arc.

If familiarity is intentional, it’s doing its job.

2. The cigarette break line

come find me on your cigarette break

This is a great detail—specific, intimate, transient. You might consider leaning into it slightly more, since it’s one of the few concrete images in the poem. Even a single adjective could deepen its texture. But restraint is also part of the poem’s power, so this is a delicate balance.

3. Capitalization choice

The consistent lowercase “i” reinforces vulnerability and diminishment. It works. Just be sure it’s a conscious stylistic choice rather than habit—because here, it supports the emotional hierarchy between speakers.

Overall Impression:

This poem excels at emotional realism, restraint, using repetition without redundancy, and letting a subtext do the heavy lifting. It feels like a late-night reread of old messages you shouldn’t still have. There’s no melodrama, no moralizing—just the slow erosion of hope through language that never quite commits.

You’ve got something solid here.