MARIA DUARTE recommends a remarkable study of the friendship between a Palestinian and a Pakistani, broken by a hostile state
Poetry
Poundland, 9am
This morning, out shopping in
Poundland
I saw a man I thought I knew
He was grappling at length with some pickle
And re-stacking some Irish stew
“Excuse me?” I asked, “Don’t I know you?”
He answered: “I couldn’t care less.”
It was then that I knew where I knew him from
It was our old friend IDS.
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