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Tyred
Quite bald, it blew on the by-pass
in slow moving traffic trailing a cortege.
After hobbling on three wheels a garage,
chiding me, buried in a skip its remains.
An ignominious end.
Yet after fifty thousand miles of hail and shine
it left its mark, a latex varnish
while killing prey (insects foxes badgers)
or squealing in pain at sharp bends
when under-inflated
...
Sunday 3rd May 2020 11:11 am
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