
the lone man’s mobility
on the countryside’s hamlet
depends entirely on a well
working bus system
that’ll take one to the city
but more so on the mood
of its drivers: the friendly/
contentious/ the grumpy/
the funny/ the unreliable/
as well.
on a saturday afternoon
the shown timetable is not
affirmative
the poet waits at 15:52
and the bus is not arriving.
for god’s sake –
no use to complain –
offices are closed on a saturday
for ‘le weekend’.
now then/ walk a bit to the
next bus stop to kill time/
another bus in 30 minutes/
or else: walk half an hour to
the main road ‘wienerstrasse’
and get main line transport
there!
it’s ok/ if one has nothing much
to carry
but now the poet has a painting
of his artistic endeveours below
his arm
for exhibition at a fashionable
coiffeur’s shop adjoining a
famous landmark
in the heart of vienna.
It’s not important to the vor-
busline organisation but for
the lone poet
or has there been some other
reason?
buses.sesub
zoltanzelan zjg-poetry’20.