The Red Telephone Booth

phone-booth-2547447_960_720

No one writes poems about telephone booths anymore

So I thought I would write one,

about the time I drove down

A series of side roads to avoid a booze bus,

when I almost ran into one.

It was so nostalgic.

It was the sort of booth that Clark Kent would dash into

to change into superman.

I opened the door and went inside.

It stank of stale urine and cigarette smoke.

The paintwork was peeling. There were no phone books

Only numbers,

‘if you’re after a good time call …’, that sort of thing

and anti-gay graffiti.

It looked like

the last telephone booth on the planet before mobile phones

took over.

I closed the door, climbed into my car and drove off,

Heavy as a telephone booth,

into the arms of the booze bus.

2 thoughts on “The Red Telephone Booth

  1. I didn’t know that anyone ever wrote poems about phone booths.
    They’re coming back – as ‘privacy booths’, in upscale restaurants and hotels, for folks who don’t want sensitive conversation overheard. 😯

    Liked by 1 person

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