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stork daddy
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some take delight
at a bar, friends
a female customer
talking her hand rests
on my knee.
in the grand old manner
of flirtation.
plastic paddies all around.
sure i'm one.
my heritage a picture
of me wearing a hat i never wear
in a snowglobe with shamrock snow.
and an aunt who says the hail mary
too fast and dramatically
to be completely of this country
you'd know this even without her accent.
oh well, some poetry i like,
a song i find an ethos in here or there
"courting pretty women
in the morning so early"
it doesn't have to be either/or.
this girl then,
do i flirt with her?
we talk of st. patrick.
no real snakes in ireland
drove out the pagans though.
regardless of the truth
the shamrock is the trinity
and the trinity is the shamrock
is a nice decent thought
doesn't have to be either
sociology and pagans or the expression of
god in all things.
all we talk about are
jokes of the day
me and her.
but i suppose we're also
saying other such and suches.
like, it'd be unbearable living
in a world without free will and alcohol.
and many worlds is a brilliant idea
maybe there's no trinity in another
only a shamrock. and i know songs
with other ethos.
theoretically there's a world in which
i make all of the right decisions.
so we celebrate our identity with a grain of salt.
but we take our best theory to bed with us.
my best theory? take her to bed with us.
right decision to keep flirting
the alcohol helps, could it be any different?
to hell or connacht and cromwell and
wages in a glass.
later fumbling with undergarments
and kissing.
keep kissing me i like it.
and in its depths
my eyes are shamrock and the trinity
and my hips are pagans and snake.
doesn't have to be either/or you know.
hated or loved, we'll be missed when we're gone.
culture in the old sense.
oh and now she's doing the weak kneed
fish dance, and it's me not tradition
and "take the starch out of her"
and hard enough to damage myself
and some furniture
i'll take you home again kathleen.
all sincerity is maudlin.
"you like that"?
not all a joke, not all a sincere query.
a bit of a tradition.
the world in which everything is worth tears
and the world in which nothing is so worthy
that you can't laugh at it,
touch lips.
and the banal continuance of life
that is these worlds' beginning and end
is for a moment forgotten.
and in being so forgotten said continuance
is assured.
so we'll compare songs,
different songs to bring us to sameness.
in the old love tumble.
and i don't have to pretend
that the songs i've heard,
the jokes, and historical
stupidities (not so much unique
as distinguishable)
are part of this old game.
they are a part of this old game.
and in this world we take delight.
a three pronged unified theory
and pagans fornicating.
and liqour to make us forget
what we don't need to know.
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