I was sad
Not really sad
Maybe melancholic
More like tired or something
I was walking down Gardiner Street
Carrying everything I have in three bags
And two of them were from Dunnes
And well, I came back to Jacob's Inn
I put everything in the locker
All my clothes and my three books
Which have titles that say something about me, I guess
The first one is "The Wild Things (There's One in All of Us)", the second is "A Midsummer Night's Dream" and the last one is "The Outsiders" by S. E. Hinton
I put everything away, than I went to the hall
I listened to Italian, French and Argentinian friends playing guitar
Drank a couple of beers with a girl who was 16 years younger than me
I played a song myself
Felt better
It was Christmas.
YOU ARE READING
Weeds
PoetryPoems by an Italian guy who moved to Dublin. Cheap loves, cheap beers, bad jobs. And fights. Bukowski would have probably been disappointed. But you always were, Hank, weren't you?
