Sarah sent me photographs by the famous Brit photographer Don McCullin.
He's now 83.
Here's a poem I wanted to write since I saw them tumbling from the sky early this morning.
MUSTACHES
They twirl around willy-nilly from the sky
A dance by Grieg or Telemann or Vivaldi
Seeds from the almighty maple
Disguised as a child's toy.
That's why when I was a kid
I wore it above my lip and
accidentally snuffed it up
my nose
To the doctor we went
where it was painfully
removed and I never did dat
any more.
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