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Bad Dream

December 4, 2006

…Being as it is, A Curious Adventure.
He steps back, hesitates, turns and exit running.
The light suddenly fails.

That Denture-Hawk with the Bad Spelling. Tops in Pops. Adult Shop the Ultimate Logic. I bank hard left off Dorset St. and onto North Frederick St. The Memorial to the Martyrs of ’16 and others to my right, not before Lovinspoon and the Fish Shop that no longer is. My finger tightens: quiver in the hands makes the wings wave Hello. I Scream Low over Parnell (“Ne Plus Ultra”), the Purr in everyones Bellies. Tracksuit Proletarians glance askance and Makeup-Suburbers ripple as I pass the Savoy; Fingers tight around the trigger. Where Once Stood Nelson now Stands Progress; the G.P.O. glows – Standard big as God’s Bedsheet Proclaims a Glorious Victory. Big Jim Smiled at Me; I have arisen Jim. I Shake the Single-Panes and eye O’Connell. All Judged Now. I pass the Angel who Chokes the Serpent and contemplate the Filial Loyalty of The Dog. The Liffey; mainline to the mother – all blur now; wider than it is long did you know? Oh I’m close. Back-Quivers. The building above that night club where the Blood Transfusion Service live, the place I dreamed of living in; sniper so subtle. To bank left or right? –– D’Olier or Westmoreland? Straight ahead up Westmoreland. The University ahead; House of Lords to my right. So Close; I can smell Cordite and Perfume. As I scream over the Head of that Lady with the Harp, not to mention the Drunk with the bodhrán, a report sounds to test the guns. A puff of smoke next to Molly is all I needed to see.
Brown Thomas.
My Finger Tightens; Squeezes.
My Plane Overhead; Debasers Below.
In Balance with these Lives; These Deaths.

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