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Traces Left Behind

I
Crossing the traffic lights at Parliament Street,
and on over Capel Street bridge he processed

in priest-like dignity bearing in one hand,
a just-opened tin of John West sardines,

and a white plastic fork in the other. He wore
a power-blue business suit-jacket, a faded

open-necked white buttoned-down shirt.
He had the face and demeanour of a solicitor,

middle-aged, gaunt, yet rude of health;
his grey trousers were stiff with grime

and sockless feet padded the asphalt.
No one took heed of him, no one smiled,

ribbed, or turned to snicker at the rubber
soles of his Adidas runners dragging

like perverse flippers behind him.


II
She wears a ring on every finger
and another on each thumb. Her white

trainers are scuffed into a statement;
her raven hair has been stretched to pain,

a purple streak dyed into each wing.
Three plastic charity bracelets, blue,

white and black, jangle on her right wrist
with a glimpse of serrated crosses

carved above a loose orange bandana.
Grafton Street has stilled in the canopy

of evening. Beech trees sway as summer spills
onto Stephen’s Green where the girls will meet

before another reckless wrought abyss.

Jimmy I read your poem on Monday and was touched by it . And it came back to me today in Tesco's . On the reduced priced stand there was a battered and dinged tin of John West Sardines !!

Jimmy,

I particularly liked the slow reveal of the first part and the references to priest and solicitor...clever but skillful...
and the beautiful description of Grafton Street in the second part.

Thank you for posting these.

He must have got the sardines in Tesco!!!
Everytime I drive by Parliament street I wonder will I encounter him again... so far... not so...

Jimmy

well jimmy if you never see him again you have captured him forever in your words

I took the train from Athy into Dublin today . On the bus into town I was delighted by a mother and her 2 lovely sons on their way to London for a weeks holiday. I greeted her and said something like 'Are you off on holiday'.She leaned accross from the back seat and whispered 'Im 50 this year and this is my 1st time on a plane . We are going over for a week to relations.
Im Noreen from Galway . As I introduced myself I watched her 2 lovely sons hugging their luggage looking as if they would burst with joy .
I was getting out at Caple St to go to the P O and she was wondering how Id know my stop. I said it was the green bridge and wished her a very happy holiday. Whats seldom is wonderful I thought.
As I crossed the bridge into Parliament St i was looking out for Jimmy's man in the power-blue business suit-jacket. Not a sign. But I did see a lovely young girl there with a Costa cup looking for donations. What to do in these situations I never know . Would I give her a tenner that I had just drawn out of the PO ? Is there a right thing to do ??

Would I give her a tenner that I had just drawn out of the PO ? Is there a right thing to do ??

Ah Lonndubh the age old conundrum..................
What is the RIGHT thing to do....
whoknows, says the owl
and only an owl is right

I think the only "right" thing to do is to transform the Athy/Dublin journey into art... a pome, a painting, a dance, a exquisite piece of clay stone or steel... or from dough into bread...

Jimmy