inside, the heart of cities muff-
collide in shades of brown, yellow, and rose.
Hard pavement walkways,
tender footed sandy beaches,
seagulls call all snowy white,
and so it ends-for me.
I breath-look-ponder to stare,
blurred lines stir themselves even,
while the loud daily man echos "decO!"
He no longer reeks of annoyance.
Butter tender as the cows themselves
Cadbury's swirling chocolates wrapped in ecstasy
fried, salted bacon. Egg yolks turned to fluff.
Mmm....the dream of a lost American.
Shamrocks do not phase me,
leprechauns do not stir here.
This isn't any stereotype that I can imagine,
save what's left of the beer. Or stout.
Feisty winds of stinging pleasure,
winter's cold is doused with good measure,
and I hate it-and love it-and embrace it all the more!
Saluting ye off to a depressing start,
and onwards on, only time will tell.
So goodbye, dear Cork. Thanks ever so. Thanks a million.