Yamas.samaY

Seven am. Up up

as if woken by a Muse.

Will I be coming today?

She may have asked herself

while she sent me stirring

vibes.

I wash quietly

make tea

warm oats with berries

nuts and an orange.

In time ready to go

the bus due in three minutes.

Usually a shaky ride

seats above the wheels

are always free.

 

Stephansplatz – usually

a busy tourist trap

passed Café de’l Europe

visited by a local coffee house

society

on my way to the Art Forum

Mrs IRA astonished I’m

already here.

Did we have an agreement

to meet?

Indeed – I reply.

All right please take three

boxes to the back

we expect visitors.

OK.

My tasks have begun

pity Nica is not here.

Mr T will be in Jordania

and Mrs IRA wants me

to take some garb –

back from the cleaners –

up to him.

Somehow I’ll get lightly

off except for some notes

into my specific notebook

I’ve received from Roli.

 

Then to Wipps and clean

Mr T’s room.

But he’s not happy that

his old mess

also called Uriah’s Heap

is almost gone.

He’ll swallow

murmurs his indignation

and then he leaves with

Soshi – his new helper –

with goods and bags.

Mrs IRA is a hard

task master

but in the end she’s fair.

Well

I don’t mind what her

young eager helpers earn

for hard physical labour

I’ve pegged my work to

my judgmental price.

 

A class of 12 girls and three

Young men visit the A/F.

After assisting Mr T

I’m invited to Ellas for

grilled lamb chops with

mashed potatoes –

It’s good.

The serving lass is from

Crete.

We talk about Heraklion

where she’s from

and also my family name

is close by on a village sign.

See the world is a small

Place. I like Ellas.

 

Mrs IRA appears.

It’s nice to have her with

Us for company.

Yamas.samaY

 

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’17.

 

 

 

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