Her cell phone’s nestled like a hand grenade
she warily positions with a leer.
It puts her militancy on parade
and lets her unarmed adversary fear
prolonged maneuvers from her sonic base
of operations. He’s enjoined to heed
her animated efforts to displace
him from a post he’ll ultimately cede
before the uncontested inroads made
by her linguistic onslaught on his ear.
Advancing vocal forces soon invade
his sensibilities. But all he’ll hear
is unremarkable guerrilla chat
conveying where she’s been and where she’s at.
Frank De Canio