Don’t
answer
the
phone
if
you
think
it’s
a
freedom-loving
loudmouth.

Don’t
answer
if
you
suspect
a
tyranny
is
coming
to
drown
you.

Do
not
answer
your
phone
if
a
wavy
rain
of
Beethoven’s
Große Fuge
rolls
through
your
undeleted
e-mails.

Answer
the
phone
when
tides
and
dramatic
weather
calamities
disrupt
the
inauguration
ceremony
of
President
William
H.
Taft.

Answer
when
the
49th
volume
of
Manhattan’s
Yellow Pages
for
the
14th
century
is
published.

Answer
your
phone
if
the
night
is
old
and
the
day
is
blemished
by
closeted
laziness.

Answer
if
you
treated
me
right,
answer
if
you
punished
me
needlessly.

Don’t
answer
if
I
trickled
down
the
bowling
alley,
or
if
I
impugned
your
dignity
with
a
spelling
error.