My loose checked tie

 

Not knowing where she was

I strolled

along the sodden 

broken street.

 

My hands pocketed, 

I clutched the ten punt note

rescued from her purse.

 

There were brown laces

in my black brogues. 

I was whistling.

I had not washed in two days

 

I boulevarded down Pierce street.

and skipped past 

O'Shaughnessy's provisions

and Flannagan's Out-fitters-

quite aware of my indebtedness 

to both proprieters.

 

I sported an

open jacket and loose

checked tie-

acknowledging all 

side-ways looks

with a cheeky grin.

 

How great the feeling was-

a whole day ahead to drink.

Ten pints of creamy porter

and to finish off- 

a hot fish and chip supper.

 

She better

'ave laid

a big warm fire.

 

(Dublin 1964)

 

Reworked