dead drunk dublin and other imaginal spaces
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a   l a w n   s p r i n k l e r

b y    m a r k   m u r p h y

Sir, Ma’am, the picture and by the picture
I mean the bigger picture, the overall show,
remains unintelligible to some of our visitors
but not, I assure you, to a man of my clear
talents. The loudest complaint is simple enough
and directly appertains to the sprinklers,
which, it is said, obscure the view, detract the eye
from the main event, and by the main event,
I mean the whole shebang, kit and caboodle,
the grand lawn and little flowers, the job lot.
Absurd really, to have missed the point,
don’t you think. Perhaps I should spell it out.
Grass, garden, gardener, wheelbarrow
and garden gate are incidental
to the sprinklers, one merely informs the other.
Messieurs et Mesdames, the main event
is, quite simply, before you
and behind you. See how lush it is.



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