Wednesday, November 11, 2015

poem of the day 11.11.15

upon telling my american co-workers
that irish cops don’t carry guns

they look at me
like i just told them someone
took a crap in their lunch

faces turned sour
eyes in disbelief

like i’m explaining quantum mechanics
to a six year old

when i don’t know a damned thing
about quantum mechanics

i think they think
i’m making this up

should check online but what’s the point
since no one is saying anything

my one attempt at conversation today
shot dead up on arrival

so we sit in the silence
of our blood-paid freedom

until one of them
finally looks up and says

well i think they should.


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