The last of the public
pay phones, a dial tone to nowhere
backwards in a dog
park is a hunt
for diamonds, is easier
for some to fathom. Me,
I don’t know how
to wear them, am seeking
other gems.
The last of the public
pay phones, a dial tone to nowhere
backwards in a dog
park is a hunt
for diamonds, is easier
for some to fathom. Me,
I don’t know how
to wear them, am seeking
other gems.
Free to walk in the rain
in a park—to imagine a dial
tone from the sole remaining
pay phone on the southeast corner
where the sun might have crept in
another afternoon. It might dry up
in time for true blues
on a plaza, for a baseball game
to play out in a new stadium
where birds get in free.