David Ennis is a man who is a poet and was a fisherman,
but only briefly, and not chiefly.
He also was a journalist,
in that trade he won’t be missed,
he got pissed.
For a while, a solicitor’s clerk,
in the dark.
He worked in a car park.
He cut grass, alas.
He did this, that and the other and, sometimes,
nothing much.
This is his life, or such.
Tich Ennis
27th November, 2012
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