The Last Telephone Booth

Meaningless metal structure, copious glass
the see-through building with no elbow room,
a place for Superman to don his cape,
this one the last said mini-structure on Earth
(for it was researched thoroughly by Guinness.)
The young gawk in amazement at this oddity
their questioning eyes trying to figure it out…
so happens somebody put instruction on its side
detailing the function, a “How To,” if you will
and then when read, puzzlement turns to
relief and joy—fresh faces flows like springtime
brooks as minds are made so much the better.
This one is in a mall just outside Elkhart
Indiana. 

Anthropology in mind, professors bring their
students here to gaze in fascination, to
fold in the phone booth door
as if it were a Venus flytrap
there to dine on human
beings so to feed Ma
Bell of yesterday,
or spew dimes
from out the
little slot,
giving
coin
up. 

Young folks point their smart phones
to picture booth monstrosity, to fire
clicks for images, or maybe
pretending hands with
phasers disintegrate
the alien.  Still it stands,
the booth, a smug contraption
perhaps in wait for Clark Kent to charge
and change and supercharge himself;
the booth a changing room of course,
without drawing attention naturally,
yet I am left to wonder where
Clark put his clothes.

40 Lines
Writer’s Cramp 
8-14-19