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frank in coat

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

11 years since his death & the thrill remains of that assent – to me taking

the glint of scissors and snipping at his dark, damp, half-

 

Teddy Boy locks, even to his scrawl of sideburns, though he chided –

“you’re doing it all wrong!” agitated by the Montreal

 

heat and erratic on his meds – still any chance of getting close to Frank

in a normal, everyday, pseudo-domestic sense

 

stirred me, though why I didn’t keep one black shaft of what I clipped

I will never understand.