Peter J. King Bi[bli]ography i. I seem to have been waiting here for years, while others come and linger for a day or two before they leave. My spine’s as naked as the day that I arrived — have I been forgotten, left to fade here, gradually becoming foxed and fusty? Can I really be so hard to catalogue?
ii. Weeks you spent in intermittent local history, discovering my life, your nimble fingers leafing through my past — until I threw you out, incensed at finding underlining in my early teens, a dog ear at my leaving home.
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