Thursday, August 16, 2007

Bluetooth til the batteries die

If you have a minute and are interested in reading some very good poems, check out the online journal Quest. The current issue is edited by Evie Shockley. I knocked out another Bop, this one is lighthearted and fun and based on a line from a song Prince wrote, although the two female cover versions (Stephanie Mills and Alicia Keys) may be more famous than his. It starts off with a Dr. Seuss riff and gets more bizarre from there.


One phone, two phones, red phone, blue phones,
and still, a watched pot never boils.
I got an antique Bell in the attic,
gotta cordless can in the den,
got a slim cellphone with phat ringtones
that I stole from the T-mobile store, but . . .

How come you don't call me anymore?

You thought a Sub was a sandwich,
Thought Dom was a brand of champagne,
Didn't believe a Tootsie Pop lick
could make you cry out a name.
Was there too much static in my lines,
too much kinkiness in my cord?
I let you play my number,
straight, boxed and even Pick Four, but . . .

How come you don't call me anymore?

Was there something odd in my digits,
too many sixes, not enough nines?
If it's a question of not enough change,
I'll donate a dumpster of dimes.
Maybe I shouldn't have left you
handcuffed and moaning for more, but . . .

How come you don't call me anymore?
Post a Comment