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I saw him in the Airstrip Gardens
(Fahrenheit at 451)
Feeding automative orchids
With a little plastic bun,
While above his brickwork cranium
Burned the trapped and troubled sun.
'Where is Piper? Where is Pontefract?
(Devil take my boiling pate!)
Where is Pam? and where's Myfanwy?
Don't remind me of the date!
Can it be that I am really
Knocking on for 78?
'In my splendid State Apartment
Underneath a secret lock
Finger now forbidden treasures
(Pray for me St Enodoc!):
T.V. plate and concrete lamp-post
And a single nylon sock.
'Take your ease, pale-haired admirer,
As I, half the century saner,
Pour a vintage Mazawattee
Through the Marks and Spencer strainer
In a genuine British Railways
(Luton made) cardboard container.
'Though they say my verse-compulsion
Lacks an interstellar drive,
Reading Beverley and Daphne
Keeps my sense of words alive.
Lord, but how much beauty was there
Back in 1955!'
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