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Poems

Mr Dixon

20 September 2014

9:00 AM

20 September 2014

9:00 AM

I can’t think of anyone else still alive
who knew him, and could reminisce with me
about his special kindness, his panache —
(ice-white shirts, cufflinks which, looking back,
were just a trace too gleaming)
his well-known love of the stage
and his dramatic tours round the domain he cherished —
the Department of Dental Products.

I think of him with affection, even love.
He gave years of his life to sales graphs
and managerial meetings. He settled me
soothingly at my first typewriter
and when we sat next to each other
at the firm’s Christmas party, he said:
Don’t call me Sir, we’re off duty now,
and I think you need another mince pie.


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