Attached to a Phone Cord

It was an image out of time


A man walking with telephone in hand


The long handset at his right ear


The bulky base hanging from his fingers


At his waist, the curling cord


Like a bandolier across his chest


A long cable trailing along the floor


A slender, flat worm, fixed to the wall


Shifting as he paced around the room


Watch, as from time to time he switches


The parts of the phone form hand to hand


Pausing for a moment to cradle the handset


Between his shoulder and his ear


The phone base swings from left to right


The handset mid-sentence, from right to left


An archaic dance, a vision from childhood


When we were tethered by the cable


To the phone, by the cord


Within which electrons flow


As now they pass right through us


Ten thousand conversations at a time


Binary signals in the ether, invisible fingers


Digital ones, and zeros, drawing pictures


Touching nerves


Inside us 


Given on the open mic at:


The New Shit Show, Minneapolis

The Fox Egg Gallery




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