During

Diarmuid

October days…

Fleets of ships in a Chocolate square

And your eyes

Far from cocoa.

Near a mustard building

Where a famed fiddle plays.

Picture me in a crowd

On a royal red perch

And you traveled six grand to find me.

Stuffing your fair pudgy fingers into empty pockets

Your apologies were so amusing

And you finally found a fiver.

Switch to conversation

Of which I couldn’t understand a word

save for Diarmuid—

I got that much.

Your accent so thick, your eyes so blue

You asked if you could follow me to the ladies room

and offered to hold my drink

while some guy shouted his love for me.

You seemed impressed that I didn’t know him

And I declined the offer, explaining later–why.

I read you rightly and completely

And accepted your invitation

To the Fillmore.

Walking in

A mountain of snow

A broken glass table

And a room full of women.

I’d lie to say I wasn’t intrigued.

Cut to 5am

You in a cab with a mug full of brandy

Following me home for that glass of red wine.

Conversation crept into dawn

And kissing you for ages felt like a dream

Under my net

and that green star lit sky

that was my room.

You.

You loved maroon walls and the Prince of Denmark.

You, who constructed your history to complement mine.

You, who waited twelve hours to call me.

Me, whose only love was you.

The Other Woman

The other woman in your life has a sinister sense of humour.
Sometimes I lie awake at night and catch a glimpse of her making love to you as I sleep.
I travel to the other side of bed
Feeling sick that I can’t make you sweat like her. Your expression, dreamy and light
While I silently cry to an untitled track
That spells the story of my life…
The moonlight drips in.
How come I never heard this tune before?
I turn to wake you, yet you are cold and weak.
You — who think you, are stronger than I.
And I await you with a soaked towel for your head
and a kiss for a swollen tongue.

I Love You Like Paint

I love you
Like paint.
You stick to me and I swirl around in it —
Your Limerick boyhood charm.
Skip to the shop
Pick up goodies for my birthday breakfast that
We failed to eat.
Your history,
My future —
I have you
And Prague.

Liscannor in June

I lay in your gaff
While you fill prescriptions
Of parenting.
Soaked ashtrays were never
My story.
You found it easy to make love
In that storm
And I found you
Silent for once —
You looked holy.
You sank into Bulmers
As I cleaned the mess;
Staring desperately — knowing
This creation would one day
Be hers.

Caramel Skies

Caramel skies slumber above
Amber leaves.
October bleeds into November together with
You and me.
On mornings like this I wander into our cable car down Hyde —
Smiling profusely
You’re sitting beside.
There are no planes to meet, no tickets to board
Just us
Ten weeks
And long walks in damp fog.
Up hills of States
Down crooked stairs of paved streams
You grab my fingers and pull tight into me —
“Your face, it’s perfect”
I feel I could cry.
And I awake to find you in December.