Poem: September 5, 2021
It’s Father’s Day, so Katy says I don’t have to go to the shops to get the feta, and – even better – I’m allowed to play my reggae. No word against Bob yet, as the archival Wailers live record gets its spin.
Talked to my dad. He was good. We chatted about TV shows and politics (which is basically a TV show anyway). We’re locked down and bored but it cou…
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