Ballade of Indignation

I'm driving through New Mexico, let's say,

facing the glories of the setting sun.

But just before I get to Santa Fe,

there you are, stranger, with your ganglion

sized brain and SUV that weighs a ton,

paying no mind to sunset's golden crown,

but nitter-nattering ninety-nine to one …

so would you kindly put your cell phone down?

I’m dining out, which is the perfect way

to make the brain cells sing in unison,

relaxing with my Merlot and filet,

when there you are with that damned cell phone on

your ear, discussing how some game's been won

and whether stocks are up or upside-down.

You’re sharing all your life with everyone,

so would you kindly put your cell phone down?

Haven't you noticed it's a lovely day?

The kind that makes you want to jump and run?

But even jogging, you can't throw away

that cell phone, can you?  Why, you've just begun

to give your boss a sales plan that will stun

competitors and make your rivals drown.

Look out, you fool!  You're running down a nun,

so would you kindly put your cell phone down?

L'Envoi

Friend, I'm no longer saying this for fun.

Road rage has made me rampage through the town.

I’m out of Prozac, and I have a gun.

So would you kindly put your cell phone down?

Gait White

© 2000; originally printed in Light.  Reprinted by
permission of the author.