After a while, all curious ears transfixed
On us, like rusty antennas tuned in to
The music pulled out by our hands, as if
Roots from the soil, the music that
Crawled from our lungs, like some small
Sea-creatures scuttling from under rocks.

They sang in our wake, feeding us a diet
Of Cork Dry, cheers and sponge-cake,
But then, and why, I do not know, but
The feminine insults thrown between punches,
The police arrived near 4am, we left at 5 past,
To upstairs, until all cooled off and over.

As the sleepless sun peaked in the window,
The guitars ceased to be strummed,
The bodhráns ceased to be thumped, and
Like vampyes, they hid from Sunday's sunlight,
Sleeping in careless places as I sipped on a
***** so I die a little more easily.

The morning poured me coffee and put it
In front of my heavy eyes. A breakfast plate and
A basket full of cold toast. We thankfully ate,
And talked about the healing properties of lizards,
The corruption of the Catholic Church and
Just what the Hell happened last night?

-Jamie F. Nugent