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 Jan 2017 Tiarnán Murphy
Blossom
I love you, said the boy
Watching his brothers nap
I love you, said the girl
Rocking her pup on her lap
I love you, said the movie
That two people watched for kicks
I love you, said the man
As he gently kissed her lips
I love you, said the woman
While she nibbled on his ears
I love you, said the father
Giving his daughter away in tears
I love you, said the dad
To his newborn baby girl
I love you, said the mom
Who had all the love in the world
my hair is your obsession
because it's *****
it's curly
it's exotic
it's ethnic

i wrap it up because it's fallen out
and you call me aunt jemima
i wrap it up because it's damaged
and you call me carmen miranda

you taped a photo on my desk

how about i tape a photo to your desk?
compare you to every white person you remind me of
touch your hair every day and point out your split ends
your bald spots
your imperfections
and send you a photo of the whitest white woman
and say,
this is you;
you are her

your ignorance fascinates me and yet
i'm not allowed to say ****
i sit in my chair
and i let your micro aggressions build up
into volcanoes that make me want to erupt on
your fantasy island
where all white is all right
and all black is all nap
and latinas serve your tequilas

you always want to put your ******* fingers
where they don't belong
you believe your simple gestures are innocent
but you're wrong
(c) Maxwell 2017
Taking two words to describe yourself
You just smiled "Annie Hall"
I had only seen Manhatten but somehow
Knew, knew how hard i'd fall
As for my turn
Well you just placed a finger on my lips
And then so softly whispered
Sentimental boy

That was then, as for now
Maybe the final credits have rolled
Our picturehouse now in ruins
No more screenings nor stories to be told
Like that derelict Ballroom of Romance
We visited at the edge of town
Summer nights, flagons of cider and your  
Sentimental boy

Recreating it's history
By it's broken down and boarded up wall
Slow dancing in the moonlight
Stopping only to swear we'd heard a call
Rising from the paupers graveyard
Dancing silhouetted in the stars
Ghosts of dead lovers to an old fashioned tune
Sentimental boy

This town now has changed so much
But none so more than we
Yet so often on a warm summers night
By that paupers graveyard you'd still meet me
Humming some half remembered melody
Whilst wishing on the brightest star
Please oh please, won't you just let me be....

                                                      ­               your
                                                sentimental boy
* Rural Ireland in the 1950s/1960s offered little in entertainment or socializing, save for dance halls. These became known as Ballrooms of Romance but were little more than large sheds and most lay unused and derelict by the late 80s/90s

** In modern Ireland a flagon usually refers to a two-litre bottle of cider. Very popular for underage bush  (street) drinking due to its relative low cost per quantity

*** Paupers Graveyards were a field of unmarked and unkept graves of the poor and destitute . Originating from Famine times  (1844-1849) they were common sites all over the country. 150 years later the only signs that remained were often a single cross on a mound of the field
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