The Dodge
Plodding one mile to
the station each morning.
Back again by seven.
Head nodding. Hair flopping.
Like an old shire horse.
Kids in the street pointed.
But in World Cup Year it
was a brilliant idea
to say his Dad played rugby.
Kept them off for a while.
By the time they found out,
he’d gone to live with Mum.
But he still watched for
the shaggy head to swing
round the corner. He’d try
the rugby dodge again.
Page(s) 17
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