To hearing every voice
The ringing is a ghost
Of love

Telephones that took our time

We used to attach ourselves
To common things
Smuggling in new light

Arrowsmith Trans Am REM

Now we distort the stolen titles
Fighting the grinder of spellcheck
The cold hard algorithms
Softening us up with baby talk

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We spent weeks in the woods
With a single token collect call
Spoke of my latest badges of merit
Or how many bug bites I had sustained

Even then I had very little desire to talk

Luckily there is no deadline for love
No such thing as too much love
Flowers are telephones
They like to be admired
They love to be loved

And they love you