He looked at me
with all his eyes
intensely motionless
for the moment
as if he were sizeing me up
standing in spilt beer
as I recited Issa
to him.
He didn't seem
too impressed
standing there
beside the corpse
of a twisted
burnt out match
a viciously stubbed out
lipsticked cigarette.
'You talking to me...
...you talking to me? '
he seemed to say
in his best De Niro.
He rubbed his face
with his front feet
then without
bothering to wait
for a reply
the fly
...buzzed off.
Dónall Dempsey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/one-more-for-the-road-for-onelia/
