the kitchen wall phone

i'm tired

of technology.

of chargers and wires.

texts and emails.

i'm

exhausted by

dings

and rings,

notifications of all kinds.

i miss

paper mail

in the box down

at the end of the road.

the mail

man waving

as he carried his bag

onward.

i miss

the wall phone.

the one

phone in the house

on the kitchen wall,

with a long black

cord

that stretched

to the basement

stairway,

where i could sit

on the top step

and talk in

private

and be left alone.