Tangled in Spider Web
How many angels can dance on the hood of a ’42 Hudson? How many sailors have gone down to the sea in ships? What time was it when you dialed the unlisted number? Who answered? Did you hang up or sit there on your porta potty breathing into the phone? Careful how you answer.
Do you ever wish you’d hung up? Have you talked with her about it, or have you grown apart? Do you still eat the same food, sleep in the same bed, listen to music in the dark? Why do you come in after midnight with your shoes in your hand?
What about the children, are they still locked in the cellar? Talk to them thru the floor vent. Tommy, Susie, little Greg with the goiter, can you hear me, loved ones? Dig thru the concrete to China, that’s about the best I can offer. Mommy can’t come to the phone right now.
Chances are they won’t answer. They weren’t raised to make small talk. Close the vent.
Add the rent to the phone bill and subtract the utilities. There’s your common denominator. We’re getting close to the place where we started. Shrug your shoulders, say whatever, that’s how to keep the ghosts at bay.
There you stand, all tangled in spider web.