No one writes poems about telephone booths anymore
So I thought I would write one,
about the time I drove down
A series of side roads to avoid a booze bus,
when I almost ran into one.
It was so nostalgic.
It was the sort of booth that Clark Kent would dash into
to change into superman.
I opened the door and went inside.
It stank of stale urine and cigarette smoke.
The paintwork was peeling. There were no phone books
Only numbers,
‘if you’re after a good time call …’, that sort of thing
and anti-gay graffiti.
It looked like
the last telephone booth on the planet before mobile phones
took over.
I closed the door, climbed into my car and drove off,
Heavy as a telephone booth,
into the arms of the booze bus.
John Malone 
I didn’t know that anyone ever wrote poems about phone booths.
They’re coming back – as ‘privacy booths’, in upscale restaurants and hotels, for folks who don’t want sensitive conversation overheard. 😯
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Not many do. I may be the last 🙂 Good to hear they’re making a comeback in a different format. Someone should write a poem about that 🙂
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