Just as the poet thought about          

Ringing Mr T

His own phone rang.

It was Mr T.

His voice still a bit crackled

Words slowed down somewhat

But yet with clearer diction.

He’s in no shape today to attend

To visitors. OK.

Still he’s astonished about the

Severity of his attack on his


But he intends to pull through

His worst ordeal since years.

He’ll do it.

He’ll be up again in a few day’s


No doubt.

As always he’s adamant about it.

But this time some doubt taints

His determination.

Yet he still shows a great spirit.

Now then.

The poet is still in time for the

401 bus to Weidling station

Where he’ll shop for groceries

At a Spar-outlet.

His mind reflects on his

Dwindling cash resources.

Well then

It’s only salads today.




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