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The Scar


He walked into the classroom

scuff freckles, tough, lichen rock,

and Beatle boots.  The radio

played ‘I Want to Hold Your Hand’.

He was ten going on Lennon;

I was mesmerised at once.

At twelve he lost my signet

ring.  I announced in class,

‘I do not love you anymore.’

‘I do not love you any more.’

We walked at seventeen on

Grafton Road and down Parnell.

We sang ‘Stairway to Heaven’.

Khyber Pass we hit a bus

crash, bang.  ‘Don’t mind your panties,

dear.’  I lost my shoe.  I lost

much more than that.




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