telephone lines wrap around our wrists and fingers, holding us up for something less special,
we were never meant to be together - with bows in my hair and mismatched socks folded to your ankles;
i just didn't see the parallel love enough to keep the conversation going on both ends in different booths.
i talked for you, puppet glued to the ideas that i ask and you follow with simple lines
of
two sense. (or two cents, rather.)
so, i redialed to give you some time for focused thoughts or to walk away.

funny, i didn't even use your name,
or even think about coming over for
evening tea and to view films with dashing young men like yourself.

but, we never had the chance to correlate our likes
and hopes
and possibilities because

the telephone fights and make ups were the center of
our little world that you took as
"us".

so i'm cutting myself from the phone line to take
a break and shake the mouth movement motions.

*please insert two quarters to stay on the line...