I know there’s nothing special about me
being here; I see the same things as all
the others, exclaim the same compliments.
But here in a warm wood-panelled bar, I’ll pound
my hand on the table, press my shirt to my chest,
and declare, solemnly and without irony,
that I too could live here.
JULIE CAMERON GRAY, from Thoughts of a Drunken Tourist at the Bushmills Whiskey Distillery (Taddle Creek)
“what if I wrote lines that took nothing / but the shape of my thoughts?”
knife | fork | book 