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You call there on business
and they put you on hold
for a minute you're sitting there cursing
But then comes a voice
like liquid, molten gold
you're connected to just the right person
With business concluded
you talk just to hear her voice
and she sounds so darn sexy
that you make a choice
"How 'bout dinner - a date?"
and she says, "Sure. How 'bout eight?"
so you get directions
making sure no inflections
of excitement are heard,
not in one single word...
But excited you are
as you get in your car
and drive to where you said you would meet.
You sit at the table
and give her a label
because she sounds so dog-gone sweet...
Then, just for a minute, you close your eyes
But, hearing her, open them - to an ugly surprise
Across from you now sits a woman- "The Voice"
and you sure wish that you'd made a much, much different choice
Oh man! Gee! but she is the sorriest dog--
Hell, you'd rather kiss a frog
And yeah, man, you know that you've really been had
By this thing called The Phone Voice, big-time and bad.
© 2002 Mary Barnett
Thanks to T.S., on whose
cocktail napkin this poem first began to make its
appearance...and my sympathies to anyone who's had this experience!
-- Mary |
