if there was a payphone

for the other side

it’d sit unassumingly

on a broken city sidewalk

taking numbers,

taking calls,

no takers


but I’d shimmy up

grab the receiver like

I’d been expecting


balance it like

precious crystal

between one ear

and one shoulder,

gifted as a

trapeze artist


two deep breaths

a signaled hello

tell me,

I’m cringing

shaping limbs into the

mildest of philosophers


is it as


as in

my dreams?


the dial tone

answers back

straight shooter


this elegant thing

it’s sunrise

it’s terminal

start breathing

stop dreaming




Filed under Uncategorized, Writing

5 responses to “Terminal

  1. Wow. No words. I’m going to go read that about fifty more times. Amazing.

  2. I love the imagery here (“mildest of philosophers”) and the elegant ease of the language.

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