Sometimes Ireland
by Ray Greenblatt

Like a dare
sometimes I wake to the music
fiddle, flute, bodhran
and the sun turns green
all through the looping day
and the sidewalk turns to bog
I look for shards in store windows
finding only ties, handkerchiefs
or dumb dangling underwear
then I see the ties
hold green diagonals;
I am elated and moody
wanting to go back
but back to what
the freckles, cheek pinks
pale blue out of a gray field
are gone
probably gone--I can think
of it no longer
the magnitude of America
squashes me back into place.

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