landline phone

my life is a landline telephone tethered
to the ground
magnet for nuisance calls

on the bus they all dab madly
with their thumbs on colorful wireless gadgets
with all these appliances -- music, games,
video, text, tweets, hair dryers, refrigerators
and the endless jabber jabber jabber

each morning at 9:40 precisely I get the call
from Mumbai
some young chap with a thick Gujarati accent --
"Hello, sir, my name is Villiam Jones..."
he wants to sell me protection for my credit card

then at 4:24 pm the automated girl calls
inflection always the same (must be a tape) --
"I'm calling because there's a chance that I can
save you a lot of money"

I gave up talking on the phone in the late sixties
when all the phones were tapped
you never knew who was listening --
might be the Russians, might be the CIA,
might be the SIS, or even your mother

but I keep paying the phone bill in the hopes
somebody will call
who's worth talking to
it's like playing the lottery for 30 bucks a month
always a chance for a miracle