Before I knew it. I pressed send. A long text meant to be erased. Thought about, Re-thought about. I smiled before thinking about The initial reply back. My heart sunk. Sick. Constantly thinking. The buzz of notification. Exactly what to do when her face shows on my screen. Exactly how to play off The only voice, The only face that mattered this time of night. To be honest, I wasn't sure What I expected to see. Of course lying to myself. My pinky underneath the phone For support. Waiting for reply. A mental continuation Bringing another thought to the message sent. Fighting the urge to send Lol. I sat almost a lifetime. The same heart wrenching feeling. The moment you realize you lost your phone. Or my case. A brief text denying all evidence of what stares at her nose. Brightly lit. Signifying what I saw When she'd call, when she'd text. That same delicious smile I'd heart over a million times. All reserved for future reply.
This isn't a love that can be Put on speaker phone. We're far too silly for that. Easily saying the first thing that Comes to mind. One moment to the next, Stunned slience. Phone etiquette thrown out the window. This isn't a love that can be sat down. Kept between an ear and a shoulder. The amount of time it takes for someone to leave the room. Conducted in civil manner. Attempting not to shout, Completely losing train of thought. Not sure of validation, Our voices raise a bit. By now you should know we shouldn't have to limit ourselves like that. Denying a freedom that connects us to whom we truly are. Our quirks, general weirdness. The crazy looks from those around. The laughs that get funnier each moment that passes. By now you should know that we are the complete definition of crazy. Often appearing in person, Before one of us can hang up. Laughing hysterically, Continuing the conversation At any given time or place. This definately isn't a love that Can be placed on speaker phone If we have to applogize for what we say. Afraid to be who we really are. Isolated from who we truly are
I've used them on my windows To see the clear outside, If I read the Op-eds, I shudder, shuttered and hide.
I've spread them 'neath my plates and cups, My shelves all neat and tidy; But the headlines made it clear to me My glass is more half empty.
They had a place in the litter box For **** to scratch and squat; I laid them round my garden plants, They made fine insect traps. Rolled and twirled they'd start a fire, I could fold them into hats. They cleaned the grease from BBQs, And they're safe to pick up glass. Crumple them for packaging, They work as school book covers; Add water and some flour, To shape papier mache lovers. Fold seeds in them to germinate, Then use them for compost; There's many ways to employ Your Times and local Post.
But I won't subscribe to Dailies For the felling of our trees; And yet I miss my papers, And the ways they worked for me. But when enthroned, You'll hear me grouse, There's no **** paper in this ****-house.
My cell works well to scroll and swipe, But it's only good for a virtual wipe.
In the '80s I worked for a company who sold mobile (cell) phones they needed 2 bodybuilders to lift and only Tory yuppies could afford them we also had a car phone fitter no hands free so lethal on the roads I had to stock take the big ******* so a waiting hernia had my name on it
In the 90s I worked for a different telecomms firm they never sold the now slightly smaller mobiles at all no future in them, that's what they said anyway, business suits and drug dealers were the main market for them at that time my company thrived on fax machines and payphones if you were seen with a mobile you were a ***** or a low life down a shadowy back street
In the 2000s everything changed almost overnight affordability and smaller size really mattered the masses and all classes turned to text and the novelty of talking on the toilet in the bath, or while enjoying al fresco *** that means outdoors, not with Alan Fresco the genie was out of the bottle and so, unfortunately, was Christina Aguilera
In the 2010s, public phone boxes are a rarity the irony is those that are left with the doors ripped off and pools of ***** are now largely the preserve of drug dealers trace ability more difficult, **** odour irrelevant the mobile phone world has turned full circle in just 2 decades users have evolved from social pariahs to social media addicts with a furtive future unwritten
I've gone for social commentary with humour here. I'm aware not ALL public phone boxes are used by dealers. We have plenty of older people and rural areas in the UK.
In my mind Seeing you was the perfect form of communication. To watch the expression of depth. Every wrinkle that crinkles the side of your nose. The sentiment grown from standing so close. Eyes grown in anticipation. Every depth expressed. Explored until we're tired. In my mind seeing you was the perfect form of communication. It's only so much to do behind the screens of phones. The customization of emojis plastered on blank screen. A temporary thrill that we enact before actual contact. In my mind we restrict too much of ourselves with the press of a button. Cheeks spread loose, folds undistracted by the moment where we ourselves are drawn to life By what we anticipate most. Without need to talk as much as we can before an abrupt end. To consider you without call waiting or the awkward feeling of having to call you back. Malicious moments before the call actually goes through The introduction of physical smile. Separately from the window of a phone Leaving more room for availability
To a point of trust. There is no such barrier as insecurity. In over one hundred pictures you are free to do as you please. Intuition doesn't lie. A sudden sensation that strikes out the blue. Theres no need for passwords or indiscreet glances. A rare case trust comes into question. A certain closure that adjusts to a overwhelming thought. A sudden reach or pull confirms this serious accusation. Things change. A subtle glance to remember the way things use to be. In over one hundred different pictures I witnessed your body language begin to change. In over one hundred different ways you hid pieces of yourself behind a password. In a world where we are free to do as we please. You decided to hide yourself. Second guessing that truth would never find the light. Appearing against the phone of a random stranger. Another secret. A light to peek through the crevice
And when ever I reach down everything is OK. A jingle of my keys, pocket change. And there you are. I'd have a heart attack if I were to reach down and you weren't there. I don't know what I'd do. Back tracking every step. Doubling back every where I've been. Pacing my breath in attempt not to panic I know it's an unhealthy dependency but face it. You are a part of my everyday walkabout. Whether it's something that I need to know or randomly bored. You always put a smile on my face. Although some news I'd rather not know. You tell me in a way that I'll understand and I appreciate that. Searching for a smile pure and humble. A small print made large. Easier on the eyes. You teach me things that I'd never think to look for. Random searches that tie into the things I don't know that I need. Me sitting in front of you face to face. Our conversations spanning for hours at a time. I know at times you need to recharge your batteries and I try to let you be. But even when your sleep you don't mind waking up and keeping me company. Even if it's just a second