Elegy for a Payphone
- James William Wulfe
- Mar 9
- 1 min read
Updated: Mar 20
Once, you held secrets
whispered between static and steel,
nickel-plated confessions
tumbling down like promises.
You were the last call before the bridge,
the drunk’s midnight prayer,
a lover’s long-distance goodbye.
Now you stand gutted,
a rusted relic of bad news and broken hearts,
your dial tone swallowed
by silence.
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