You think you know about Alexander Graham.
Like Sherlock, he freaked out his Watson.
Mr. Bell, who may have cheated
Elisha Gray out of the patent,
financed it himself when Western Union
withdrew their $100,000 offer.
He could not know of poles strung
across the world, the abandoned crosses
now rotting along the highways,
replaced by below ground cables
where no birds roost.
He did not know of iPhones.
Or know that dinner table
conversation would disappear.
He had no idea that hotlines
would connect countries
for nuclear reasons.
He hated the ringing, even refused
to have a phone in his own home.
Maybe he figured it out when
the irritating jiggling annoyed him,
interrupted his next invention.
Originally published in Red Fern Review