“Grampa was okay this morning. Because he slept so nice. Sometimes when the slippage is on he doesn’t sleep so calm. Sleeps like a freight train. Last night he didn’t know who I was. But he knew me this morning very well. That was good. “Revelly! Revelly!” he shouted me awake. Imitating a bugle. “Revelly! Up, Martin! Up, my lad! “Clay lies still but blood’s a rover;Breath’s a ware that will not keep.Up lad; when the journey’s overThere’ll be time enough for sleep.” He has called out this poem ma...ny times to get me up. I know it off by heart. Grampa Rip loves poems. Back to me in the truck. We’re moving now and Randy’s silent for quite a while. Then, “Know what a coincidence is, Boy? A coincidence? It’s two things that happen together and turn out to be a big surprise.” Here we go. “Looked at yer job application. Seen yer address. Somerset Street. Number 511, Apartment 4. Right across from Dumb Donald Park. Here’s what you call a coincidence! I used to live there!MoreLessRead More Read Less
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