I admit that it appalled me
that day you first cold-called me
but you charmed me, won me over
told me I would be in clover
and I succumbed to your advances
thought: what the heck, I’ll take my chances
I told the Doubting Thomases
that you would keep your promises
you’d said that you would care for me
that you’d always be there for me
oh how very wrong of me
I should have thought more carefully
all that warmth and bonhomie
now seems like such hot air to me
for when I called to clarify
the startlingly high tariff I
was on, you proved elusive
and remarkably reclusive
for one so formerly effusive
in breach of all known etiquette
you started playing hard-to-get
left me feeling so much smaller
as if I’m the nuisance caller
with designs on your affection
which is vexing and perplexing
I don’t think it would hurt to see
a bit of old world courtesy
so I’m parting from your company
who’s dumping who? You’re dumping me
constructively dismissing me
I trust you’ll soon be missing me
and then you’ll once again change tack
predictably you’ll call me back
and find you’re waiting in a queue
to hear, when you at last get through
Goodbye. It isn’t me. It’s you.