Gedicht
David Wheatley
My Back Pages
My Back Pages
My Back Pages
I crossed the sea. Half my address bookblew away and never came back.
It’s one way to weed the cabbage patch.
I never did like them all that much.
I stopped sending Christmas cards and letters.
The other half went. I never felt better.
Which left me and the takeaway man,
except when I got down to one
I wasn’t so sure I made the cut
so mine was the page that I ripped out.
I’d decided I liked me less and less
I’d done my throwing out in reverse.
I was the lack that I’d always lacked.
Get rid of me and you’re all welcome back.
© 2006, David Wheatley
From: Mocker
Publisher: The Gallery Press, Oldcastle
From: Mocker
Publisher: The Gallery Press, Oldcastle
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Gedichten van David Wheatley
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My Back Pages
I crossed the sea. Half my address bookblew away and never came back.
It’s one way to weed the cabbage patch.
I never did like them all that much.
I stopped sending Christmas cards and letters.
The other half went. I never felt better.
Which left me and the takeaway man,
except when I got down to one
I wasn’t so sure I made the cut
so mine was the page that I ripped out.
I’d decided I liked me less and less
I’d done my throwing out in reverse.
I was the lack that I’d always lacked.
Get rid of me and you’re all welcome back.
From: Mocker
My Back Pages
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