Walking across the Green from the wind-tunnel that is Leeson St
Is like - I can only dare to imagine - walking in God's Garden.
Doffing my hat to Peter as I glide through the gates,
I slip down through the gears from my business-like fifth
All deep-in-thought frown and quickstep hustle in mock shoes
To glorious first, the carefree saunter of an innocent man.

Striving for the gait of the unaffected rambler, I pause
To loosen my Dunnes €25.99 Tie-and-Shirt combo I bought yesterday
Hardly noticing now the packaged creases of the cotton
That billow ridiculously in the cool wind of a mid March day.
Lighting (at the fourth attempt) a diet cigarette, I exude coolness
And surreptitiously watch for people watching me.

Noticing that today is clearly not a day for being noticed, I sit
On my Irish Times in an awkward heap of elbows and knees -
I do not know the last time I read the Irish Times,
It is merely now part of the uniform, the bauble of the court jester –
And hungrily wolf my over-priced and over-coleslawed ham roll
Forgetting every now and again that the grass is damp and lying back.

Watching Dublin City Council’s Apostles knead the soil of the flowerbeds
I think of you and the way you held my head as you stood, bare-footed
In the splendid femininity of your 3rd floor Modern 2-Bed, Well-lit,
All mod-cons, Close to the shops, Must-See apartment
“Look cutie” you couldn’t remember my name “I had a lovely night but
I’m not looking for anything serious, I’m not in that place right now”
And you swept me out the door like you were tidying up for visitors.

Dear God - and I know you exist for I can see you beside the bandstand
Happily mowing the grass and talking to Robins as fat as frogs –
Why did you ever create the Modern Woman and Sex and the City?
Is my life not complicated enough than to have to try to understand
The needs and desires of a woman who can wrap herself around you
Like a viper at 2 in the morning – all eyes and tongue
Yet can dismiss you almost before she has finished dining on you.

Walking with my wet backside towards the far exit, I stop
To listen to the ducks laughing at me and jump a little bit too much
As a pigeon with horns and a leather jacket kamikazes his way towards me.
Et fucking tu, Brute? I scream silently, gathering up my dignity under my arm
And mortifying my way past the Luas bringing lost souls to the Purgatory
Of the Dundrum Shopping Centre and beyond.

Back in the office, I ring my wife and tell her I’ll be late home
“That’s okay, honey,” she sings “I’ll get off early and collect Banana
From the over-priced, under-toyed matchbox Montessori, Love you”.
I try to tell her I’m sorry, really really sorry but she’s gone,
Into shag her boss probably or the office junior and tell him
As he stands there with one sock on and boxers back to front
“Look cutie, that was great but I’m not looking for anything serious
I’m not in that place right now”.