No cell phone allowed
so I feel naked,
with just my notepad and pen,
back to the boring bank.
I am blocked by boredom
and for a while
all I see are blank faces.

“Would you like to add
a backup account to prevent
overcharges.”

Rain falling, black umbrella bobbing
like a limping parasol trying to escape
this mundane storm.
Not allowed to talk to the customers
for more than casual pleasantries.

“I have twenty calls to make
but they are the same people.”

Stranger in a black Toyota
parks in poor pools that reflect
the same cold dreariness
of this security shift work.

“She just walks in my office
while I am on the phone
trying to make my quotas.”

Balding ginger with a white streak
that cuts across his small beard
looks as tired as I feel.
Two grandmas hug and talk about
the same grandchild.
White paint covered man
comes in a with a wide grin,
and good greetings.

“I’m so tired of fake smiling.
Did you see the Lip Sync battle?
What are you reading?”

My fidgeting fingers ******
the notepad in my coat pocket.
I slip it in and out taking notes
on the people that come and go.
It is good for me to be without my phone,
but like an addict I am itching for
a distraction.

“Quiz me. I sort of passed.
Missed a few so  
I have to do an onsite test.
You know you can add
a checking account for free.
You only have fifty left in.
Do you want to deposit that?”

I bank each stranger.
saving them for later
racking up interest
in my interest of humanity.
I bank them in my little
red book, so I can write
about my basic observations.

“Where are you from?
Hey, where are you from?”

Oh me, nowhere important.
I am just a banker of stories.
Do you have one?