T-Mob Shop

Some weighted women

took their seats next to me

squeezing into the Econo-seats

standard to the regional buses:


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


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


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


but thanks to our robust natures

we are still able to cope

both of us.

At times.




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