For years, I thought Trevor Grimshaw
Was someone else, a different lad who
Sat at the same table, drank Irish stout
When I told people I knew him
It was almost true
I just mistook Trevor
For Bailey, Emanuel
Who worked in a warehouse
Stacked cardboard boxes
Slept there some nights
And wore sandy coloured flares
Big collar shirts. Cowboy boots
Helped Victor Brox as a Roadie
Became a close personal friend
Of Captain Beefheart
Not Trevor, the other lad
There was no disrespect intended
It wasn’t done on purpose
To draw (or deflect) attention
From Trevor
Beefheart’s connection
I’ve apologised to his daughter since
Steven Taylor

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    1. Beautifully presented as always

      Comment by Steven Taylor on 3 May, 2023 at 11:12 am

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