For my Pension status update I ran down
to the downstairs Fund, and sprinted back
faster than lightning - their office so hot I
near fried in overpowering, nose-curdling
disinfectant smells like Auschwitz
Where, after being disinfected, all prisoners
were gassed - Annette explains calling was
a wiser ploy - gave me their elusive number
and at 8 am on the dot I rang, Diseko - her
name sings - answers, waiting patiently
As I fumble for my pension number, taking
my email address, tho' I didn't ask her read
it back so some tension was left, and since
I feel cheated without mystery, I leave it an
opening for misunderstanding
Might need call again; why life needs such
intrigue I cannot say - but it does - and so
here goes, waiting to see how Diseko will
comply with my request; oops, opening
my email - whoop de doo - here it is!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem