The Truth About Tigers

It’s become common to see
lawyers on TV flashing phone numbers,
the same digit repeated,
rows of fours, strings of sevens,
easy to remember
when you’re standing in a police station
or pacing a hospital hallway.

Not so long ago
we carried dozens of numbers in our heads,
dialed them cleanly
on rotary phones.

Now the phones remember for us.
Still, I know the number
of the house I grew up in,
though I couldn’t tell you
who lives there now,
and my grandfather’s landline too,
our last conversation
long over.

Sometimes it strikes me as funny
that the numbers I still carry
belong only to ghosts
or lawyers.

People I want to call
but can’t,
and others
I hope I never need.