the internet cannot find the richard
wilbur poem on the groundhog with which
I wanted to use as a springboard for the hedge-
hog road killed, rest in peace me spikey friend
who I transferred in my mind into a pumped
up biosonic super-duper slug eating hog
that would from memory of a bristol uni mag
that borrowed steve majors, could wreck
and overturn the tarmac status quo -now
I must regretably go, as time is in this cafe
running out, but I hope no deja vous
for my milk sipping comrade of the road.
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