Thursday, 15 December 2011

Trafvulgar Square

I lost my gloves in Trafvulgar square.
Bloody tourists milling around everywhere.
It’s not as if I put them down for long,
but I turned my back and they were gone.
I trundled back to the National Gallery
and spoke to their security.
An African gent who looked bemused
as I explained, remonstrated, ranted and enthused.
'Have you seen them? I was just in here,
I may have dropped them over there.'
He looked slightly peeved but still he smiled
and spoke to me as one would to a child.
He said: 'I haven’t seen them. Are you sure?
Please, look in your bag just once more.'
'Look. I know I’ve lost them.' Said I to he.
Still, I looked in my bag out of courtesy.
Can you believe it? I felt mortified.
There they were in my bag, and so - I lied:
'No. They’re not there, but thanks for helping anyway.'
I turned fast on my heels and scurried away.
I really hate Trafvulgar Square!
That’s the bloody last time that I go there!

   Copyright © 2011 Lena Fiagbe. All rights reserved

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