1979, blame on
his theft was vinegar, salt in the wounds of the deliberately named ‘North of England’
bed and Borstal, inside, vanilla coloured balustrade encircled all floors, the thick drill of a kitchen sink drama where no one looked like Richard Burton
middle parted hair covered ears, and brows, eyes with screwdrivers, Yankee Civil War blueish grey clothes-aid folded, church tower clock re-lives its quarters
name game fills blank space Arts, illiterate’s bare-chested wrestling
all-seeing journalist


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