the blarney stone

remembering ohio
five miles from the river
bavarian irish
green roof
and reflective windows
towering garish
over beechmont avenue

a former cuckoo clock shaped
international house of pancakes
closed down by wise health inspectors
who next existed as a bad dive bar
i was sure more people had pissed on it
than had kissed it

one of the first places
who didn’t care to inspect my fake id
there was a time before the
sick light and sound of the karaoke machine
you could work the room without sticking to the beer skanked floor

the place once had the hardwood wisdom and charm
of a sage like
old world whore
chain smoking
wearing a clover pendant
with lingering hope in her laugh

probably bull dozed by now

my heart hopes it still exists as a flower shop

(turn and speak directly to the camera)

i consider the time
when life was simpler
before our cell phones
made us better liars
naked pictures were
quid pro quo
freely exchanged

long after he discards you
he’ll still have that first
playful picture of you trusting him
while you naively hold your tits

to hell with
the blarney stone

you make your own luck
in this world

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