Long phone calls late in to the night are no longer. Just a relic of the past, I guess. Do you remember how far the cord stretched and that feeling you were connected to something? I think about what I could get away with as I muffled the mouth speaker during some of your long rants about nothing that ever mattered except only in our landline world. It mattered. I remember the feeling of stuck keys that unlocked your number and your mind, a passed sense of privacy and intimacy. It did not take long to go from such moments to the decline of modern culture, the text message. Shorter calls, or none at all – no more voice messages on my answering machine – another violent disconnect. Buffalo run on a mass adoption of the cell phone and something was lost or worse, still creating losses. Would we be communicating another way had the cell phone not interfered with our ability to concentrate on those details of our lives? Are we be able to “pick up” a direct communication from someone who might be in danger? Many of my most important calls all went unanswered after the mental blockade. Seems like even more invisible nets were installed post-911 blowing up the fear that there are even fewer places to hide under so direct a line, so nobody wanted it. And we grew enraptured with the tech. The separation continued to grow. So I am left to wonder, without these little fiendish devices would I be talking to you in a more candid, naked way? Dialing in to the thought of you and wrapping those thoughts around yours seems not only possible, but an age old secret we were purposely lured away from. Would your spirit be elevated or will it cling to social media if you heard from me? Just add it to the que, there’s nothing insulting about waiting for you. We all fell for it, but some of us saw the end much sooner. Now it’s a waiting game for you to pick up my call.