iPod plugged, young Victor’s 
muttered not a word since my divorce. 
Grace is up front. She carps, 
“Dad, why d’you drive this Chelsea Tractor?” 
Thinks she’s going to save the world of course 
since reading a bit of ecology for GCSE. 
I hang a left and bark, 
“You think I never cared? You’ll see!” 

My big Land Cruiser cruises 
country lanes through blizzards of thistle-down. 
The car-...

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