pushing into my September Street
the lauded halls of UCD
I’ve crossed too many rivers
to repeat those shady schooldays
evenings in front of the TV
days when nothing came
waiting for pieces
to fit – they never did
and seeking out the One
who’d give my boredom meaning
I never quite found out
if they were boring too
and dancing for a teacher
who so it seemed decided
what I did and felt
what was so damn important
creeping through each lesson
with dreams of better things?
those better things seem lesser now
as fires burn without sight of a blackboard
and as the sun stays hiding
what lies beyond the lights
of my September Street?
I’ve crossed too many rivers
too many bloody rivers not to see