When we get together I am twenty years
Old again and laughing.
We are sat in an Irish pub on North End
Pints of strong lager and cheap Whiskey
Our eyes propped open by the braless girls
Who had shoehorned
Their bodies into tight-fitting fabrics.
The come ons, the chat ups,
Slap downs and put downs so cruel then,
So funny now.
And the old boy alone in a corner of the bar
Searching for adventure
In a half-consumed pint of Guinness.
Neither you nor I
Imagining that he might be our mirror image
In years to come.
And as the night grew old and the music louder
The whole pub sang along,
Proud and drunk, to the words of Molly Malone,
The Fields of Athenry.
And the old boy tapped the table with yellow
Drum stick fingers
Playing with a smile on the foaming lips of
A tepid pint.
And now here we are together again, drinking
Good wine and a fine single malt,
forty years later and I am still twenty years old
Turning our twenties to twenty-turned again. – mh clay