Postcards from Ireland

Spaghetti house in Dublin
Only very cheap, but
The girl takes my note and gives no change
Then she takes my change.
Eventually, I notice the smirk
The gleam of hatred in the eyes.
I tell Kevin
But he just looks frightened
Who to complain to
In this enemy country?

Travelling west
I see a man with his legs apart
Against a fence.
What is he trying to do?
When I realise, I laugh
He is trying to piss on the sheep.
Truly wild

Little pub in Clifden
Kevin has me drunk and onto politics
We agree troops out
United Ireland
Meanwhile, the locals stare
They didn't know
That Sinn Fein were censored

Sunny day in Galway
Kevin has sunstroke
So I'm in charge for a change.
It's nice
Leading him by the hand
Looking at Celtic relics and Claddach rings
Eating oysters in white wine
Accompanied by Guinness
People here seem friendly
Perhaps they see less of us English

Overcast in Uggool
I lean over the fence
Looking at long abandoned potato ridges.
Suddenly I feel overcome with grief
Kevin puts his arm around me -
"What are you crying for?"
"For all those people,
all those people who died"
"Too late to help them now"
He says and it's true.
I get back in the car
Nothing else to do.

Youth hostel
In a bleak Norman castle
Symbolic of oppression

Independent hostel
In a farm house
With no curtains.
Kevin and I lie fully clothed
On the bed with it's bright covers
Listening to the music outside.
Suddenly we hear
"She's got her hand on his cock!"
Enraged, I rush to the window
Outside a young man with a guitar
And a group of young women around him.
Strangely, I feel sorry for him
All those girls, and you can't touch?

Chilly in Wexford
The streets oddly empty
We come across a striker's rally
A middle aged man
Making a defiant speech
In defeated tones
Harbinger of bad times

Weary drive to the ferry
Home again to Wales

PS we are engaged

Clive

I saw the Trickster yesterday
Leaning over his cycle
So much a part of him
Like a little warrior
Socks tucked into his trousers

Pale and pursed against the cold
Getting at last the face he deserves.
I did not meet those eyes.
Emotion? I don't know
Slight annoyance, I expect

He doesn't notice me.
Once, he did,
I won't go there again.
Shan't think of him, give him
Too much power

Pedal as fast as you like
You can't escape
The Mrs Bucket wife
The too-dependent kids
Being the Boss
Baldness
Forty

Dreamer (Haiku)

I try to get a
Grip on reality; it
Slips though my fingers