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Linda Offenhartz

Priorities change
As I walk down these long corridors.
I lift the Brown receiver and
all of the "important" things become
Trivial Bits of the past;
Unimportant obligations
Diminished by unbelievable visions--
Babies and children-unable to
breathe-a function I take for granted.
I keep walking-I stop at bed 6-My
brother lies still; millions of tubes connected to him.
Bleeping machines recording his progress.
No longer is that killer test life threatening New priorities rear their ugly heads.

Yet, at the school house gates,
The old standards resume their usual course.
No one understands why a "B" isn't disastrous
They've never picked up the brown phone.
I let myself get sucked into the trivial
problems-the ones I know how to deal with.

Yet, the brown phone keeps Ringing
trying to swing me back to its melodious ring.
I try to avoid it, but I can't. One more problem to report,
one more complex solution, my brother's horse voice, not always intelligible!

My Realities Clash!