(no subject)

[deckardcanine]

The following poem is based on yet another true personal story reported on LJ, this time from January of this year.

Beg pardon while I rant and rail
Against a common piece of mail—
A cell phone text, to be precise,
The contents being hardly nice.
A so-called credit union claimed
My bank had issues (no bank named);
I could not use the ATM.
But could I trust the word from them?
The grammar in the note was poor.
That kind of fault can make me sore.
I called the number that they gave,
A move not smart so much as brave.
The number of my card, you ask?
No dice; I’m seeing through your mask.
Today, I put no trust in text
That’s liable to have me vexed.