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This poem is taken from PN Review 36, Volume 10 Number 4, March - April 1984.

Human Georgraphy Andrew Motion
Hardly believing it, we left each other
in the hot gale of the underground - you
to the time you could not give up, and I
to my family holidays lolling in parched
Ionian heat: olive groves, tortuous roads
and vodka precisely at six.

I write on the terrace now, reliving it all.
Grandfather sits as he does each day
...


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