I found this old poem amongst some stored notes today. I guess it was written in the late 1990's, yes, last century. It shows the abiding influence of Larkin. And old technology. In its own way, it is a love poem.

interstices

The phone rang, interrupting the 

cathode chatter of TV, sending me

wordless to your voice,

and momentarily, the choice of a forty-five

cent call or nothing reverberated, leaving me

hopeful and somewhat dangling.

So out across the night, a conversation

strung like banners, invading dark suburbs,

pulsing harmlessly in long high-slung wires, past

neat lawns, skewed bins, shouts, dogs, hovering

until the last lamp post.

There, our voices gathered, like

wintering leaves, each unravelling

the other in continual succession,

mending with silences the

confessions of absence; your coins

unused, jangling.