i’ve never used a telephone box to call someone.
since i either couldn’t speak coherently, or
had a phone in my pocket. i remembered
today that there used to be a phone box
near me. opposite the bus stop. i don’t
think it’s there anymore. i go past there
almost every day, and have never lamented
this corporeal loss. no-one really wants
a phone box, but from time to time,
someone will need one. the only time i
went inside a phone box, i was chastised
for going in and picking up the receiver,
since it was Dirty. the cold metal buttons
were a delight to my childhood fingertips,
but still tactile. in that brief moment, i felt
a spiritual tether to every single person
who pressed those buttons. a tearful apology
for something he didn’t remember doing,
a lambasting she couldn’t do face-to-face,
a drunken “i still miss you”, and maybe a sober
“please come back” as well.
what else can i do but lament?