he
drank every night in the sailors riverside boozer
before everyone fell out
he
had a dry week every new year to prove he could
his beard going brown with cokes
he
built lighters out of bullets from the munitions dump
underneath his bed
he
drove a bus on the catholic school route
looking up girls skirts
and
the last time i saw him
was the first time for ten years
outside
terminal
ITU
he
didnt recognise me or meet my eyes
as
i
dont look like Catweasle anymore
and
i
wasnt shitfaced
waving whisky in the air
or
trying to fight him
on the sawdust floor
and
his eyes were blinded
with
hospital
tears
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