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Telephone

I answer the phone.
I make telemarketers reconsider
Their career choice.

I put one foot in front
Of the other. I make
Grown men cry.

Nothing seems to defeat
Me. Though I know the proverbial shoe
Will drop one day.

In the meantime I stay barefoot:
can’t be too careful

Who prophesized this world in which I reside?
Not me.

I wanted something different for myself.

Like your voice on the other end of the telephone.
& all the time in the world in which to answer.


Connie Johnson is a Los Angeles, CA-based writer. Her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Iconoclast, Haight-Ashbury Literary Journal, Jerry Jazz Musician, Mudfish and Exit 13.

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