Ode to the Nocturnal 
Comforts of Fergus
--------------------

Dinner with my wife
in an irish pub
smoke in the air
old retriever sits on the floor
irish accents entangle
and spool out endlessly at the bar
until the very glasses of Guinness poured
taste of it

Old sewing machines
have become the bar tables here
lobster traps play lampshade
to bulbs that might as well be naked,
for all the good that lobster-trap twine
does for shade

Tables cleared, 
the barmaid sits among her customers at the bar
adding her cigarette smoke to theirs
the musicians abandoned this 
trad-famous pub
without so much as a note
"Thank God," says the barmaid.

Our rented Nissan awaits us
in the stone wall-flanked parking lot
we'll hear the ocean waves
and the rain on the windsheild
as we fall asleep tonight