dead drunk dublin and other imaginal spaces
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illustration by jonny voss


b y   A l a n   M c C o r m i c k

Is there anything else as sad
as a lonely man wearing
sideboards above his head
like a bunnygirl wears her ears?

He walks in raised steps
like a game of pick-up-sticks,
his hands firmly in pockets,
feeling stones for comfort.

An old three-piece-suite
dumped on the side of the street,
as forlorn as a left-behind smile,
whispers for him to come and sit down.

“Rest your weary legs and bum,
you sad little man,” says the three-piece-suite
with a sofa for a head,
and two easy-ear-chairs on either side.

The bunnygirl sideboardman checks no one is looking
and falls into the sofa,
letting its arms wrap around him
like upholstery muffs on a cold lounge day.

He sits there with the sofa and chairs,
watching the infinite snow space unravel infront of him,
and remembers a blood-sun day when he
and his love cuddled together to watch tv.

No longer alone, memories a kind of comfort cushion,
he smiles and falls into a long warming sleep:
the three-piece-suite and he leave the world of snow,
no footsteps or marks left in the deep below.

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