Main Station Vienna

A catastrophe!

Mr T utters

then takes to the stairs

and disappears

while I shouted after him

taking the escalators

waiting then five minutes

before departure time.

Phoning him he’s excited:

Where are you?

At the escalator

waiting for you.

I’m already in the train.

I’m amazed.

So I hurry up to the 11C

platform.

It’s a short train – damned –

Mr T is peeking out the door

keeping it open for me.

The ramped inside passage

plays sillybuggers with

the luggage on wheels

as it rolls about back and

forth.

Mr T swears never to go

by train again

but took to the stairs and

didn’t follow me to the

lift or escalator:

T’s classical disappearance

act.

He was worried though

as I let him sweat a bit.

For now I’M reading the

booklet on Bratislava

Mr T gave me. Telos.

 

zoltanzelan

©ZJG-POetry’17.

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