October 25, 2013

Dublin Guy

Maybe I should stop drinking?
I think to myself,
And I try to make sense of the time difference,
But it's my first night in Ireland,
It's my first journey to Dublin.

I'm going to have another pint.

Two double takes,
And a few laughs later,
You're sharing your beer with me.

We're both staring now,
And the lights start to come on in the pub.

Just like it was any other city.

I suppose I shouldn't talk to strangers,
Or share drinks with them,
But if I do,
I might as well talk with the cute ones.

Last call was a few moments ago, anyways.

"Was I staring at you,
Or were you staring at me?"
I ask,
And you laugh again,
"I'd say we both were."

"And it was my beautiful American accent that hooked you after that?"
I joke,
And you nod,
Take another swig,
And we make our way to the other end of the pub.

We're soon out the door,
Trying to hail a cab,
But it seems that everyone else has the same idea.

It's raining,
And we pass the old general post office,
And then the spire.

I've been up for 24 hours,
And I'm listening intently so the details aren't forgotten in the morning.

We're holding hands,
But no one has said anything to us,
Except the British tourist who came running up,
Asked where he could score some coke,
Then made his way back to his friends.

"Try a street corner,"
You say very seriously,
Then we both laugh.

We wait outside for a bit,
Until your roommate buzzes us in,
As you think you left your keys at the bar.

"I'll probably sleep in,"
I say nonchalantly,
As if this is my apartment.

"That's fine,"
You say as the lights go off,
And then I'm not so tired after all.

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