Behind Closed Doors

It would be very helpful if you'd shut it.
Was that myself to myself, asking for more privacy?
"Here I can relax and be myself" (palms smoothing bedspread, sewing pattern waiting, curlers pinned).
And she lets her hair hang down, sang the Silver Fox.
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The dolls come to life, and I'm one of them, with my blinking glass eye, with my hollow plastic thigh.
The phone in the hallway with the long curly cord fed under the door.
Four girls to answer but you'd call out "GET it!" urgently if you were in a mood.
Family answering machines, secret three-way calls (third person pressed MUTE).
You didn't even know who was calling, picked up with a hope blooming in your throat.
Now we know who it is but still use a question mark--Hello?
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My friends, your status update does not tell me what I used to what I want to know.
They say I'm bad at calling back and they're right.
I used to be alone so often.
They were only ever any good as surprises that spun out into the night.