The girl in Liam Ryan’s SuperValu supermarket said: “you probably can’t go home without those.”
She was talking about Lemsip. She also said everyone has a cold now.
I hope mine leaves my chest soon. Tomorrow, I might go to the doctor and get some antibiotics.
Does it make me feel better to know I’m in good company?
happened in May. Today we had our final team gathering in the Silver Springs hotel to finish it off: Sharon, Eddie, Pat, Lisa, Mary (plus her brother Paul) and me. Pat passed round a notebook for each of us to write a few words. I wrote a little ditty like this, and a few lines more.
From little acorns do mighty oaks grow
and little Cork a mighty conference show …
It did me good to go.
Black shoulders, white earphones,
she sits on a wooden stool
in the ‘Internet Centre of Excellence’
on Winthrop Street.
Blends into a smartphone,
like my dad consumed TV,
sat by his books
in Fort Mary.
Her fingers fit for a keyboard,
carrying a library
in the pocket
of bleached blue jeans,
from a SuperValu plastic bottle.
Frank O’Mahony smoked a pipe
in a drawing room,
sat in an armchair covered in faded flowers,
never blotting a book, straining a spine,
creasing a corner, ripping a leaf.
Father sold books.
Eyes glued to screens,
liquid crystal married to tubular light,
pathways to wider worlds.
They both wore brown shoes.