Sycamore Street

Seek the operator a night
          in an empty house
before the cellular aged miracle

number not yet registered
or located in directory

She feels for the tilting
post box

Autumn song of the blackbird
like pips

analogue as a Market & Fairs

after shift communication
crumble of pharmacy bag
          new advice for drivers

order phone box coffee
spot the Paul Smith
          ask for an apron

[051 547 922 521]

Marker flags placed
party line cleared

mode telecom
         Telex fax

green paint for rural areas
poetry for New Year’s Day
curl of steam from a coffee cup

Creosote poles
          wires stripped
salvaged fir
          you were going through
the photos on your phone

The room’s echo slows
the line crackle    from Paris
feeding francs into the box
on Boulevard St Germain

call Sylvia tell her she
can collect us in the morning

Andrew Taylor

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