I'm in a phone booth
A block down
From the cafe Indiana
I think I'm waiting for a call.
There's a guy at a table
With a perfect girl
Looks like he's in another world.
Maybe it'll start raining
And they'll go somewhere else.
Maybe they'll melt through their chairs
And they'll go somewhere else.
I put my forehead to the glass
But I think I'll fall through
So I have to think about it
For another minute.
Here comes another guy
With his two sidekick bombshells
Looks like he wants a table too.
It's goddess galore
At Sunday brunch this afternoon.
I've re-established myself
Against the solid iron
Of the telephone.
I'd like to go out tonight
But I don't think I'll make it out of here.
And my hair
Has been falling out
Like it was dead foliage.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.



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