The Cell Phone: A Lament

The phone rings and you hop
and answer, even here,
on Table Mountain
the day after Easter.

The call
winds on.
We jump from stone
to stone
above the silvery lips
ringing Cape Town.
Your sons’ eyes shine
with the wonder of the view
but you’re caught–
discounts and taxes.


3 thoughts on “The Cell Phone: A Lament

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