Somewhere Else Poem by Dónall Dempsey

Somewhere Else



We are cold to each other.

The music is warm and loving.

We do not talk
(speak only in silences)

broken only by such inane politeness
as “Please can you pass the salt! ”

Thank yous where Thank yous aren’t meant.

The music swells

(enough to break one’s heart)

... simple...stark...

like a soundtrack
to underscore the feelings

that aren’t there.

Suddenly the music stops

And a gruff voice almost smiles:

”Thank you...thank you love! ”

“That f**ing busker! ”
“I wish he’d busk somewhere else! ”

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Dónall Dempsey

Dónall Dempsey

Curragh Camp, Co. Kildare, Eire.
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