I was at the loosest of ends
the people had voted for me to be
his official biographer
so that was how I ended up in his bedroom
the creaking zone
Walls stained with
scribblings none could decipher
daubed in crayon or soup while
bulbs swung bare from leather cords
His modest residence occupied and undecorated
for 25 years. The neighbours say he kept
himself to himself but reported
wives numbers one and two were really quite chatty
He himself sat smoking in the garden, hunched
over and hammering at a typewriter at all hours
while his cats prowled and brought tributes
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