There was a young man on the phone
Who, tired of feeling alone
Himself, he invited
To see her, excited
To let her disclose the unknown
.
In person, they side eyed and skirted
Their senses, all highly alerted
Would he make a move?
Would they find a groove?
[ Both would have rather they’d flirted. ]
.
The next day, his silence was stark
Up the wrong tree did he bark?
Was it maybe her nose?
Or, rather, her toes?
Her atoms? an aberrant quark?
.
Whatever the reason, he balked
Though for six weeks, at least, they had talked
A foreplay of words
An affair for two nerds
Now, away from the woman he walked.
.
No matter the timbre or tone
Breathy alto, or bass-baritone
Favor fun, as you must
Savor fellowship, too, just
Don’t fall in love on the phone.
.
.
.
.
Copyright 8/16/22 Ruth Ann Scanzillo All rights those of the author, whose name appears above this line. No copying, in whole, part, or via translation, permitted. Thank you for respecting original material.
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