a long distant call

as we

walk the beach lined

with shells

and debris,

the cold ocean

washing up

against our feet,

i get a call from one

of the many

shells

that have

surfaced.

a corrugated white

one.

i hear it ringing,

so i pick up

the empty clam

and put it to my ear,

yes, i say.

hello.

but it's not for me 

wrong number, again.

it's for you, my dear.