Marjorie Peters McIntosh

(Sarnia, Ontario, Canada)

The Telephone Game - Poem by Marjorie Peters McIntosh

She said, "Hello" and who have we here
Are you that nasty old man, with a can full of beer
Or are you so old, you've forgotten your name
Why else would you play this telephone game.
I hung up the phone and buried my head
I must have woken that old sleepy head.
I'll call her tomorrow if I have a dime,
To see what she says the very next time.
As I left the phone and walked from the door
I am an old man with a most surly repor.
He looked me all over and tilted his cap
He said, you've been calling my lady, don't call her back.
I stood there alone, my chest took a pain
As I looked at this man, almost insane.
He turned up his cuffs and made a big fist
To get to my lady, you'll have to take this.
I crawled home slowly, my memory recalls
My clothes were all dirty, as I took my first fall.
My eyes were real blue, my body so sore
As I promised to call his lady no more.

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Read poems about / on: memory, pain, home, alone, time

Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 2, 2003

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