Phone Nightspot Poem by Hans Ostrom

Weird night: went to this small
dark bistro, got inside- no one there
but a bartender texting on her phone.

The tables were empty except
for mobile phones, some propped,
some lying flat, two or three or

four per table. One table had just
one phone- sad. I put my phone
on that table so the two could

get to know each other. Went
to the bar, ordered a bourbon,
and said to the woman,

'Start a tab, please, and I'm
buying a round for them all.
Her look soured. The phone

started to buzz, ring, sing,
jangle, and melodize. I said,
'Cheers, ' and lifted my glass.



hans ostrom 2017