Jun 3, 2014

What the Death of the Phone Booth Means to Me

Written by Jeffrey Morgan

Read by Brandon Courtney

I never really understood what Superman was doing in there.
How did a glass box with a book on a chain help him
remain anonymous? Maybe he liked taking his clothes off
next to our names. Of course, he never got naked.
He had his suit on all the time, underneath the mild mannered one;
cape hidden, its dangling fringe from time to time tickling
the unseen like the lover he never had time for.
The thing is, he was pretending to be human.
His costume was acting like us. And so much of us
involves nonsense that feels good. The delicate positioning
of coins in your fingers and the sounds of them rattling
down in that metal. Remember how in the middle of everything
the phone could ring and ring symbolizing loneliness?
I wonder if he ever faked an emergency, just to call Lois.
I wonder if he ever stood in there feeling untraceable,
loving only the weight of her repeated hellos.

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