CELLULAR SERENADE
by Adam Watson
"Hello," I say in a sawdust whisper
And the Cellular Serenade begins.
Conversation full of uh-huhs and oh reallys
Hiss of stale static and losing reception
Ma Bell is a master at tele-deception
I caress the cold plastic and ruin my ear.
When the umbilical phone cord is finally cut
I sit there and curse the Invention
While Ma Bell giggles and hums an old tune
A dialtone, and asks for a quarter.