Thursday, 19 April 2012

NaPoWriMo April 5th

The taxi driver barely spoke English,
Our urgency bounced off his forehead
like ping pong balls off kerb stone.
'Mate, she's gonna miss her coach! Where is Queensway?'
'Coach Station!' He replied, 'Coach Station for you!'
Vanessa had missed her bus.
I lent her some money and made a joke
about biting off a finger if she ducked me.
It wasn't funny.
Then, phone battery died,
and with it, my chance for redemption.

It's not a good story, barely worth telling,
But I would have told you on the phone now,
Days mundane details exchanged
on the train home.
But battery or no, I cannot call
And I have no one else to tell.

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