Instead of fingering her hair,
or me busy with bearded curls,
we fiddled with the coiling cord,
a wind-up, tangled slinky mess,
just as an unkempt junction box,
with party lines, of stranger times.
This model’s lost expected sheen,
its user dirty with the phone -
a garage backroom office, till
oiled greasy hands - the gloves are off -
calendar girls, hooks on the wall,
less trunk than a long distance call.
The ambidextrous challenge here
for me, yet of old fashioned ways,
this telephone, left handed set,
for Salt Lake City, Utah code;
then known round here as STD,
too many lines, polygamous.