DS Maolalai
El Dorado
bugs, come to my kitchen,
must feel they have found
El Dorado. all tall spires
leaning over
rimmed with empty
coffee cups; the plates
which slide
and go splashing,
staining with gold-spun
grease. dried ketchup
fallen like moss
on the pavement. and
a view; and a soaking
wet view.
Heuston Station
walking, on a thursday,
through the brick-
dust in heuston
station. platforms
parting passengers
like the teeth
of broken combs.
pigeons kick about – dodging
and walking, fluttering
to the rafters. people
more confused, even –
is this the train for limerick?
someone buying a sandwich.
opening it on a bench.
folding the paper
packaging. looking at
their ticket. looking at
their phone.