pay phone

Collect Call

I’m back in my car but I may as well be walking. Traffic forgot how to move and I think I’m high on exhaust. In the rearview mirror, in my back seat, you’re looking at me, brown eyes too big. Nose too straight. You’re young. Younger than I remember you.


On the street, a phone rings. Not a cell. One of those old payphones the city forgot to take down. It rings and rings. I roll up the window to shut it out, but I still hear.


Can you get it? You say it like you used to. But my mirror shows you gone. I glance back, not trusting myself. I never did trust myself.


The phone stops mid-ring and all I want is for one more chance to say hello.


  • Mary izzo

    I loved this piece. Not only did it bring back memories, but brought me to tears missing those phone calls from my beloved John. I think this piece relates to the world in general, as everyone, everywhere has lost someone either through death or divorce.

    December 4, 2017at2:51 am

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