by Connie Johnson
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?
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.