I Don’t Know a Goddamn Thing About Wales

What a difference an “h” makes; homo-
phone or no, I couldn’t tell you what those
in Cardiff say at the start of their day.
I’m not trying to be clever. There’s a
world west of Wolverhampton not waiting
for me to give a shit about maybe
pencilling them in for a nice visit.

I say I’d like to go, but could be they
don’t want me. I never thought to ask if
it was on the Welsh’s bucket list to
be hospitable to my ignorance.
But they’ll love me, as will the French, as will
the Chinese, as will the pyramids, as
will my honeymoon, as will my children.

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