A Thing, A Fling

I’m looking through a lot of my old poetry and well, I really only have one genre. And that’s the love poem. This was for my ex-boyfriend who lived in Ireland. He was into yokes (Irish slang for speed) and was always applying for hotel management positions or dish washing jobs and never getting hired.

My favorite memory of Pierce is when we were walking up Galway’s main street one afternoon. It’s one of those narrow European alleys that leads from the town square right down to the ocean. It’s a pedestrian boulevard with buskers and vendors camped out on the edges. Tourists and locals mixed up in one amazing people watching extravaganza. As Pierce and I wandered up away from the ocean we were greeted by two tall men with beards from the humane society. They explained their cause and asked for a donation. Without hesitation, Pierce gave them a fiver. And in exchange, they gave him a little dog pin which he gave to me.

I still have the pin. It’s tiny and yellow with a cartoon dog head drawn on it. To see someone with so few resources be so generous will always stick with me. Those are the moments where we choose love.

Anyways, now that I’ve written this glowing introduction to Pierce, the poem seems beside the point as I wrote it in my heartbroken stage after I left Ireland to finish my anthro degree at Beloit. I suppose you can read it anyway for context: the constant coming and going of people in and out of our lives…like breathing.

 

Well I Guess You’re Lost Now

 

I found you buying chicken rolls

at the corner store, snorting yokes

off the table in your living room,

loaning money to your brother,

here tapping my tattoo.

 

I lay under the purple duvet

punched in the face with beauty

I sang a song to myself

with you

in one of the verses

I thought I would remember.

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