Glasgow is Granda Jimmy and that time he took me to the Transport Museum;
Pigeons with at least one missing toe;
Buses filled with old ladies in bright raincoats and woollen beanies.
It’s an almost-kiss in Central Station.
The city is a train ride past the River Clyde
Looking into the shadows
And imagining the yards in their heyday—
“Gonnae pass me a rivet, Davie?”
“Yer wife’s up the duff again?!”
At seventeen, it was old people screaming and
Crying, “Nurse, she’s stolen my tea!”
Now it’s teenagers moaning, “Miss, I don’t understand!”
Glasgow is accidentally hitting my teacher with a shoe in 1999
And working alongside his daughter in 2016.
Dublin is doors every colour of the rainbow;
Bitter mornings walking across the River Liffey;
Drag queens and Pedi cabs along Harcourt Street.
It’s the LUAS;
The smell of piss outside St Stephen’s Green.
The city is €1 cheesy pizza and 58 cent Tesco Value trifle
Carried up a creaky staircase
Past a poem I only ever noticed one line of—
Who knows what suffering midnight was?
Dublin is “Sure, that’s gas!” inside McDonald’s at 3 am.
It’s ‘Hallelujah’ on Grafton Street
Reminiscing about Glasgow
And its scaffy pigeons with missing toes.
Dublin is accidentally stealing a fork from Oscar Wilde’s house.
Image: Catriona Watson