A Cricket
In the Telephone
(At Sunset)


I could hear the border guards cheering
So it must have been after midnight;
A mosquito (Stegomyia, not Anopheles)
Was singing love songs in my ear.
You called the cell to tell me something about
Mothers, or was it Mother, or was it me?
Microscopic electrons from microspace
Turned your voice to fruit-salad.

I found myself thinking of mosquitoes,
(Stegomyia, not Anopheles)
And your great gorgeous golden thighs,
While somewhere inside
(The telephone, not you),
There was a chirping noise:
"Cheer-UP, Cheer-UP" it said.

The Buddhists tell us that Truth
Lies in the space between thoughts
And the stars, perhaps just this side
Of Andromeda (or is it Anopheles?)

I find that if I think too much
On you and on my love for you,
The stars begin to talk to me,
Talk to me of Standard and Poors, and
Sweet Virginia peppermint pie, and
The Decline of the Roman Empire, and
You half-hidden under the bedcovers,
And the new, complete, unabridged
Memoirs of Jacques Casanova.

Later that night,
Or was it the next day?
You called back to say
I was driving you potty
(That was the word you used).
It was, you said, my restless brain,
The endless talk, talk, talk,
My restless fingers all over you
Making you quite daft.
That was the word you used.

I asked
If you could hear
The crickets
In the telephone
(At sunset)?

--- Lolita Lark