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Rambler
Sophie Fretwell
Today I met a man, up on the cliffs,
He lived to walk and he walked to live,
Rambling up hills and over conversa ons,
Craggy and defla ng.
Mind like a sieve.
“It’s a joke, isn’t it?”, he’d said.
“The shortest distance between me and you is a joke.
Either way I’d have to walk it
and I’d never catch yer’, not with these knees.
S ll, Hell of a view”.
He took the scenic route - the byways and bridlepaths of his weedy mind
to tell me that
He was living on borrowed me,
Though he didn’t know from who.
I didn’t laugh.
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