T-Mob Shop

Some weighted women

took their seats next to me

squeezing into the Econo-seats

standard to the regional buses:

238/239/241.

Although B prefers them save for

the 241.

I don’t.

It takes some effort to write with

an ink pen on a bus ride

but it’s more legible than ballpoint.

The fat lady next to me utters

continually.

If it wasn’t for Mr T

I would not have taken to the road

to Vienna today.

Well just on my way I forgot to

invalidate my train ticket and

decided to step out at Schottenring

where controls are seldom done.

At that moment B phoned and

asked me to help her with the

loading of her mobile phone at

T-Mobile.

She waited in the lounge of

the Grand Hotel

where I fetched her cellphone

and walked to the Kärntnerstrasse

branch of the company

I call T-Mob for reasons

and the story is one of spiteful deceit

and or total ignorance on their part.

I’ll do it for her. She’s fragile and

a shadow of her former beauty.

Our lives turned out to become

difficult

but thanks to our robust natures

we are still able to cope

both of us.

At times.

 

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’17.

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