Telemarket by John Grey

The phone rings.
I don’t pick up.

I’m tired of being polite to the impolite.
No call is ever for my benefit.
The sound of another’s voice is like fingers
roaming the extremities of my wallet.

Even with friends,
I’m more likely to let the answering machine
do the dirty work.
To be honest,
most times friends are just like another kind of telemarketer.
Except in their case,
they can put a face to the number they dial
and not just a name in a database.

Everyone it seems
wants something I don’t have
in exchange for something I don’t need.
The phone just rang again.
It’s only a stickup if I answer it.

John Gray Copy
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in New Plains Review, South Carolina Review, Gargoyle and Silkworm work upcoming in Big Muddy Review, Cape Rock and Spoon River Poetry Review.

 

 

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