Sunday, January 8, 2017

Poem in Lieu of a Phone Call

In lieu of a phone call,
this poem just to 
tell you that
I'm really not good
on the phone.

Don't like to talk on
that contraption
that much, if at all,
at least not today
or most days, really.

"Hi, how are you?
How's life?"
And then, "Great" 
or "Good," or "Lousy," or
just "Okay." 

Pedestrian sentences
leaving mouths
faster than thoughts,
bouncing off satellites,
flying through all kinds 
of walls.

Of course I want to
talk to you. That's a given.
But the phone, the fucking phone
steals all the magic
and distorts whatever poetry
we have left after
all these years of
breathing.

Imagine talking to a 
cat on the phone. Ain't
gonna work. Not because
the cat cannot speak,
but because
it's not there.

So here I am,
and there you are,
and we will meet
soon, and talk and talk,
and plant that magic bean
that will sprout and
help us climb
a little higher on 
the evolutionary scale.

But for now, please
accept this poem
in lieu of a phone
call, and forgive
my crotchety distaste for
modern conveniences.

I think I'll go and 
have a word or 
two with my cat, 
who doesn't care at all
about evolutionary scales,
satellites, magic beans,
or poetry.

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