Terrace Violence
¶ 1
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Lovingly hand painted
the red and white blur
of the rasping corn crake
came to a sudden and
unexpected stop on the
bald head of a late comer.
¶ 2
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He was climbing the final
steps onto the terraces.
I looked down
he looked up
his face pinched in pain
hand already rubbing broken skin.
¶ 3
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Funny how you remember things like that.
It must have been 40 years or so ago.
I can`t remember who we played
or who`s autograph I stood in line for.
Was it Fogarty or Hurley ?
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