phone booth

soon we’ll go the way of phone booths, obsolete and useless
pretty postcard pictures that people call quaint and charming

i held you to my ear knowing that so many others had done the same
waited for your voice that had spilled into other heads

grimy earlobes and rings of wax
somebody else’s breath caught in the receiver

i pressed my hand against the glass
ready for my costume change

becoming someone else is easy
becoming yourself is what’s hard

eventually all phone numbers will be forgotten.


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