Phone Booth
			


			
			Standing on the corner of her life,
			in a dimly lit phone booth, 
			Sharlie presses her blue denim butt
			against the plexiglass.  Her baby 
			forgive me forgive me forgive me
			call nothing more than breathing
			on the answering machine.
			He stays away
			since she got caller ID
			and an order of protection.

			
			She warms up
			under the florescent light,
			after her long walk in the battering
			wind, cowering from cars
			nearing the curb.  She is afraid 
			of aluminum pots, unlocked doors,
			of being alone. She cringes
			at the stench in here.

			
			There is always a smartass
			who pisses in the booth
			like a dog marking his territory
			or a cat spraying his intentions
			or a drunk not knowing the difference 
			between a pay phone and a pay toilet
			or some crazy urinating liquid
			Krypton on some invisible
			superman he knows lurks in there.

			
			Somebody really calls
			those numbers scratched 
			into the glass or written 
			on a wall in lipstick or marker,
			someone whose round gloom
			longs for blond fate
			to answer.

			
			And she does--
			her date with death late.
			There are worse ways to go
			than by crimes of strangers.
			How slowly time 
			bleeds out its final hours.

			
			"Hey you, I need to use the phone."

			
			Faux is dressed to kill
			in her low cut 
			blood count and death
			virus pooling in bruises
			skittering across her pale
			skin.  She needs to press her lips against
			the mouthpiece, held as a prayer
			in her palm, and talk dirty
			for her next fix.  Sharlie pulls

			
			her collar up and pushes past
			the neon skull and cross bones
			back into the bad weather.  Faux talks
			like a Charlie Parker solo.
			Have cunt, will travel.

			
			In the rear view mirror,
			Desperation, life tossed
			on the back seat, watches the booth
			recede into its aftermath.
			It sneers as it speeds up.
			Destination? Stick
			a pin in a map, it will be there

			
			phoning its obsession
			calling the cops, beeping
			its connection, ringing 
			the suicide hotline,
			dialing a prayer.