The Telephone Affair

Like two adolescents in happy daze
(only coke-less he, ponytail-less she)
we chew the rag of our acquaintance
as the world spins madly into night.

Is it love? we ask,
counting grey hairs anxiously,
exposing bruised hearts hopefully,
clinging to that thick black thread
of sturdy rubber and fine copper wire,
strong enough to mend worn heartstrings,
safe enough for the chickenest
of would-be lovers to handle.