Ode to the Phone Booth

Photo by Roland Smith

So the other day I was in Morton, Washington, heading into a convenience store for a bag of ice. On the sidewalk I passed a phone booth. The phone rang. Really. Of course I picked it up. "'Ello . . . "

Who was on the line? What boon did they ask of me? How was this accomplished? 

A story prompt, if you like. Or, approach it with a poem, as I did.

Ode to the Phone Booth

Vestibules of transformation!
Impossible closets of superheroes!
Glass cathedrals of good-bye conversations,
bottomless quarter depositories,
tattered Yellow Pages!
O for the last of the phone booths,
O for immobile conversation
Alas for the days when one could
stand still, and listen.

Special thanks to Roland K. Smith for generously letting me use his photo.