The silent yellow hum of hundred full buses

Drive through Rathgar at dusk

The carriages rattle with blank tablets head on unambient

The sad Venezuelan frame overworked and underpaid

A limp visa sewn to her heart

A niggardly recompense for a dastardly socialism

I sit, White and anxious, once young and angry

Now just tired, stomach-fluttering, trying not to drink my age in Tequila shots

 

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