Imprecation for an Answering Machine

Imprecation for an Answering Machine
By Foy Valentine

Breathes there a man
With soul so dead
Who never to himself
Hath said,

Curs`t be that phone
On yonder end
Whose tape machine
My time doth spend.

With monotone
And silly choices,
"Press one; press two,"
The fool thing voices.

With patience gone
And anger hot
I wish this thing
Were not begot.

But since it`s here
And I can`t help it
Please bear with me
While I demean it.

"Press three; press four,"
It now is saying.
When it gets to seven,
I won`t be staying.

Let those who will
Stay on the line
To hear them out
And stew and whine.

But as for me,
I`ve had enough.
They`ve missed my call
And that`s just tough.

I`m hanging up
Though I`m loath to balk;
But I crave some human
With whom to talk.

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