My cell phone is alive—
There are family calls, friend calls, help calls, recent calls, crank calls, prank calls, party calls, wrong calls, and of course, endless sales calls,
All for me.
It rings when I’m expecting it and it rings when I’m not.
It knows when I’m waiting and it ignores me.
It knows when I’m in the shower and it plays games;
As I run dripping wet to answer it, it stops.
It knows when I’m inside and it knows when I’m out.
What would I do without a record of missed numbers? Would I lie awake at night wondering who tried to talk to me?
My cell phone is alive–humming with texts, a wealth of information,
Burning with endless words—filling my minutes and my being.
Those words threaten to take me away from people who live
In the real world, and even from my own thoughts.
I will have to claim peace and quiet at least for awhile,
Letting the messages stay unread until tomorrow,
Turning the incessant beeps off for the night,
Banishing my cell phone to another region,
Waiting until I’ve renewed my inner world,
Ready to tackle the onslaught of words again.