The Silent Sound of a Hold

You put me on hold.
I sit and listen to the dead airspace.
It captivates me,
almost hypnotizing me.
I'm still holding.
I get to the point where I don't mind the quiet hum of the air,
to the point where time has no meaning,
and suddenly you return
apologizing for making me hold so long
and I think Gee, I was just starting to have fun
in the silent sounds of a hold.

9/28/1989