On Reverdie
Early enough in the mourning
I ventured out for a ramble 
In a foreign place I laid down by a river for a rest
Fell asleep
And saw Aisling again
8 to 7 years later in Tubber Tintye
I soon remembered what I had spent 7 to 8 years nearly to the day
In forgetting
On a seat I sat me down and had a notion again
We talked about work, ice cream and vomiting
Tall pretty women, Alpha males and merry making
The green, genes and sexual harassment in the workplace
Image and metaphor blurred in the gale of rediscovered feelings 
Ashtray in the head, I boasted to my ego's discontent
With the special, romantic valour that consists in fighting for long lost causes
While she conducted herself with maidenly modesty
As I sang "Who the fuck is Alice?" into the night
I pitched my sale
And she smacked it back
I asked myself in wonder
Whether she was a Greek goddess
Or some other fantastical figure
Several possibilities I listed in my mind
She intimated that she was no such creature
But, instead simply Éire
Or maybe just the eternal rewards of nature, spring, and love
We walked in the stream together
Everything flowed
Even the bus driver had to acknowledge it
I said to her, "Stick with me Fiona, and you'll go a long way...
Not just on public transport"
(Which Marcel doesn't think is a good line)
Twirling through the dizzy Amsterdam day dreams
Tripping lightly more than once along the canals' edge
No mention of the deep ravine as
The silver bright ring of the day shone again through
Into what a poet called "the darkness of the deepest chamber of the heart"
She never upbraided me as a frivolous rake 
Nor did she point to the approaching symbolic dawn