That cell-phone yak.

I do not like that yak, yak, yak.


I do not like it in a store.

I do not like it at the shore.

I do not like it at the wheel.

I do not like it at a meal.


I do not like to hear you scream

at Mr. Jerk who dashed your dream.

Don’t care about your mom’s new bra

Or the cigarettes you bummed from Pa.


That cell-phone yak.

That cell-phone yak.

I do not like that yak, yak, yak.


Please spare us all the private calls

Made in public restroom stalls.

I’ve no desire to hear you speak

About that bump on your left cheek.


When it’s your turn to order food,

Turn off the phone; don’t be so rude.

Perhaps, in lieu of all the blabbing,

You might see what your toddler’s grabbing.


That cell-phone yak.

That cell-phone yak.

I do not like that yak, yak, yak.


You take a call from Mary Jane ...

I’m standing here — like cellophane.

Since when did it become OK

To gab and gab and gab away?


Unless there’s an emergency,

Mute the ring and talk to me.

No Bluetooth, charger, headset, case...

Just you and me — and face-to-face.


That cell-phone yak.

That cellphone yak.

I do not like that yak, yak, yak.


Anne Koenig is the editor of the Living section of the Sunday News. She does have a cell phone and used up eight of her 300 minutes last month. Write to her at akoenig@lnpnews.com, or call her — it’s OK, really — at 291-8690. blog comments powered by Disqus