Two Days at the A/F

Lack of sleep makes her

kick about

it also hails the poet

with arrows of scorn

albeit his efforts

to assist with good deeds.

But early morn’

queuing up at Dr.W’s rooms

to have a head start

for being looked after.

B – for her cystitis

Z – for problems in his ears.

The estranged spouse

sleeping at times with open


is not becoming the poet

while Mrs B thrives.

Does she really?

The mineral water from


has fired up her senses

as she loves the product

but is annoyed with the

attitude of the

Medical doc’s secretary.

Now why wanted she get

me involved in her matters

in the first place?

Unfortunately she’s sick

in her soul

can’t get enough attention

and fulfilled favours yesterday

All forgotten today.

The poet writes away.

Downtown the temperatures

are more fair.

Viki talks self-assured

taking queues from famous


But more so what’s amiss?

Mr T buys a croissant for

Mrs B

he takes another cheese bun

to change his 100 Euro note.

Then hands me 35.

Well I stopped querying the


In the end Mrs IRA will be

called upon to act as

Deus ex machina.

It’s difficult writing on the bus

but my thoughts are pushing me

to do so.

A black man enters bus 239.

World wide people push for

social justice.

I wonder

having received

human rights herein.

Austria – will Mr Black man


Whose tolerance levels have

not yet been tested?

The poet had lived for three

decades on lands of the

African South –

Afrique du Sud –

collecting good knowledge

on land and people

Apartheid and freedom

race and religion.

A plea by president Mandela

for a common spirit in belief

of the ‘Rainbow Nation’.

Unfortunately his party

did not respect him enough

to give him the chance

for a second term lead.

Today Thursday.

The poet needs to finally

get his olive oil from Crete

as agreed beforehand at

the Naschmarkt – Vienna’s

big marketplace.

However Mr T insisted on

writing the last batch of

sponsor letters as priority.

There would be time though

for the poet to walk to the

Spice Corner afterwards.

Viki seemed more agile

annoyed about this silly adding

and removing text and DVD’s

from the readied mail.

Where is your list? Mr T wanted

to know.

The poet packs and unpacks

hHis pages upon pages of lists

of potential sponsors with

addresses, just to check if he’d

missed some.

It’s all in there the poet announced.

Let me see! Mr T demands a copy

of the list

but he can’t read it

looking for days for his reading


Oh fine. He says handing back

the lists to the poet

who dreams of a racy woman

looking at her mind as much as

at her body.

A couple appears. A Swede with

a Spanish woman.

The poet becomes stressed with

Mr T’s demands to hand him some

artefacts from the time during


explaining the paintings of his Dad.

The friendly couple pays for the

purchase of DVD and catalogue

and they leave with Mr T to

visit Café Hawelka

while the poet waits with a cup

of coffee he made himself.

He gives up on the idea going

to the Gewürz-Eck today.

At ten past six pm he steps into

the U1 at Stephansplatz.

Changing to the U4 train at


he arrives in good time at


to take the 241 bus to Weidling.

At provisional home Top 5

B talks of her day continuously.

He listens preparing his supper:

Sandwiches – cheese and onion

Green tea.

Slowly he relaxes.

Spouse B goes to bed early

while the poet works on until

11:30 pm.

Then he hits the sack.

Tomorrow he’ll go for his

Cretan olive oil and a bag

of Chinese Goji berries.




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