My teenaged self
paced, then turned
to face the phone,
that toad squatting
next to the TV Guide
on the end table.
I stared, then glared at it,
so stubbornly sitting there,
refusing to ring.
What a supercilious, imperious thing,
this frenemy
that kept my heart
on a tether
and my hopes
in a cradle rocking
gently, quietly,
driving me mad.