St Patrick’s Day

Dublin on a wet afternoon.
Sometime in spring.
In a smoking hotel,
with pizza and wine.
And a day trip to Bray,
on Sunday.
Outside of her room,
is an unwholesome alley.
Where sheltering boys
become hoodlums and drunks.
Happy St Patrick’s Day,
she says to their ghosts.
To her old hometown city.
To the memories,
more persistent than rain.

One response to “St Patrick’s Day

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