Waiting For Orla Hunt - Poem by Maia AlmediaAmir
Orla Hunt runs through
The fog and the wilderness
To the man with the cheap card sign.
The badly well-dressed man,
A joke in pinstripe and red tie,
His grandfather's cold old gaberdines would've suited him better.
Orla Hunt may not be looking for a balding Travolta,
But that's what they're getting.
The man with the sign is there with a car waiting.
Orla Hunt has been travelling for too long,
And he's texting impatience.
To friends or family?
I doubt it,
His fingers are thick
And rheumatic and slow on the screen.
An employer it is then.
You're making him late,
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