Keeping in touch

It's drizzling, and I'm cold,
waiting in the queue for quarter of an hour now.
Aside lays a bag of rubbish.
It stinks.

Someone, getting in the booth, says, "thank you",
to the other for holding the door.
After him it's my turn.

I jingle the change in my pocket
with anticipation.
I just got them braking into a pound.
Bought sweets and a pen
- these greek cigarettes seem strong recently
and while I revise I smoke so much more.

A middle-aged couple is coming my way.
Their dog makes a move for the bag.
The lady stops it with a single word.
I swear under my breath - In Greek.

At last, the other one gets out.
He slams the door behind him.
I get in kicking the bag.

There was no one home.