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that phone
how it keeps
ringing and
ringing off
the damn
hook
at any given
time of
day night
or dawn
unannounced
if I’m
in my under-
wear
or bathing
suit and tie
or towel
that ringer
keeps
going off,

while I’m
sitting here
trying
to watch tv,
or screw
the ghost

of my wife,
or feed
the dog,
or piss
on the toilet
seat,

seems they
see me in my
leisure or
busiest
of times,
that they
would
like to joy
stick me

and never
will they
just call
once, no
they will call
six
or seven or
eight times
in ten minutes

and not
leave
a message
on the
recorder,
after I tell
them
politely
to leave
their forsaken
name and
number,
and I will
get back to
them when
I’m good
and ready
to

but they
will dial
and kill
their fingers
pushing
numbers
and keep
calling
and
calling and
and calling
calling
until
I rip
the cord
from out
the
wall,
or I walk
out
the door
to the gas
station
down the
road,
put a quarter
in the phone
and call
my number
and wait
to see

if someone

cares

to answer.

Comments (2)

This comment was minimized by the moderator on the site

A very unique poem as it seems all of yours are. I like how there is a sense of frustration telling them to leave this person alone, but at the end it seems loneliness is not what was wanted. -Amanda J.

Amanda Jay
This comment was minimized by the moderator on the site

Thank you Amanda, you read well into this poem, nailed exactly the meaning I was trying to convey!

anthonyliccione
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