I’d like to call you in the old fashioned way
Ringing your 7-digit number slowly, one at a time
My index finger snug inside the plastic ring
Turning the dial all the way to the end
Then releasing and watching it fall back into place
A soft ring telling me it’s time for the next turn

I’d like to listen to the slow clicking sound
Of a pulse mode telephone as the digits register
Then that long wait until the lines connect
With the crackling and hissing of an analog era

It would mean precious seconds to think of
Something to say before you answer
Your long fingers cradling the receiver
As you speak into the mouthpiece
Hello?
Not Hey! How you doing? Or
About time you called!
Hello? A question, a plain and simple enquiry
Uncertain and reticent

I’d like to call you on your old red telephone
With the simple white dial
No tattle tale caller ID to reveal
Who it is on the other end of line
No knowing for sure if the fingers dialling your number
Are ones you would want to kiss
Or cut off

I’d like to call you in the old fashioned way
When no tiny little computer chip tells you even before
You hear the sound of my voice
How many letters are there in my name,
The colour of my hair
Or the day that I was born

And then I’d like to say it’s me as I try
To detect whether the tone of your voice
Is saying hang up now
Or stay.