The ‘mad’ hitchhiker’s ride to any
small Irish town
‘mad’ hitchhiker’s ride to any small Irish town
John Tynan
He heaves into the car, and slams his tongue into top gear...
“You’re a gentleman…. thank you, thank you … will you charge me anything for this… I haven’t the money, anyway, ha ha…. ah, you’re a gentleman…. ha ha, don’t worry, I won’t sleep with your wife… are you from hereabouts… did you ever have trouble with a solicitor… arrrghhh, ha ha, I’m fighting with one for land I got 45 years ago… I’m very sick from it… I’m going to die… are you with a local woman… what do you make of the country now… I’m all questions, I know, I know, all questions… they put me in a lunatic asylum yesterday, but I escaped today, hooray… it’s a long, long way from Clare to here… they say I’m mad. I am. I’m depressed… I’m high… He’s a great doctor, he gave me… I’ve just been to the cemetery to see my parents…. I think I’ll join them soon… ah, this is the capital of suicide, South Galway and North Clare… listen, a woman put a rope around her neck… fifty-six she was… can you imagine… has your family been touched by suicide… we’re nearly there, nearly there… in 10 years this town will be black… I call them ni****s… here’s the courthouse, now… see the scaffold, work being done on it… no ladders, see, look, look, no ladders, but plenty of snakes, I’m telling ya…. ah, you’re a gentleman… thank you, sir, thank you… wise words, wise words…”
that were carried from the car
with his urine funk, bloated belly and searching eyes
Requisite plastic shopping bag…
full of shite he didn’t take from the cemetery, “not like others”...
and his raucous unreality...
and now I know that racism cannot be allowed to hitchhike...
even in a troubled mind.
small Irish town
‘mad’ hitchhiker’s ride to any small Irish town
John Tynan
He heaves into the car, and slams his tongue into top gear...
“You’re a gentleman…. thank you, thank you … will you charge me anything for this… I haven’t the money, anyway, ha ha…. ah, you’re a gentleman…. ha ha, don’t worry, I won’t sleep with your wife… are you from hereabouts… did you ever have trouble with a solicitor… arrrghhh, ha ha, I’m fighting with one for land I got 45 years ago… I’m very sick from it… I’m going to die… are you with a local woman… what do you make of the country now… I’m all questions, I know, I know, all questions… they put me in a lunatic asylum yesterday, but I escaped today, hooray… it’s a long, long way from Clare to here… they say I’m mad. I am. I’m depressed… I’m high… He’s a great doctor, he gave me… I’ve just been to the cemetery to see my parents…. I think I’ll join them soon… ah, this is the capital of suicide, South Galway and North Clare… listen, a woman put a rope around her neck… fifty-six she was… can you imagine… has your family been touched by suicide… we’re nearly there, nearly there… in 10 years this town will be black… I call them ni****s… here’s the courthouse, now… see the scaffold, work being done on it… no ladders, see, look, look, no ladders, but plenty of snakes, I’m telling ya…. ah, you’re a gentleman… thank you, sir, thank you… wise words, wise words…”
that were carried from the car
with his urine funk, bloated belly and searching eyes
Requisite plastic shopping bag…
full of shite he didn’t take from the cemetery, “not like others”...
and his raucous unreality...
and now I know that racism cannot be allowed to hitchhike...
even in a troubled mind.