Down on Canal Street

where heels were high and women

tall, the craic was good

In New York city

we bought wigs and strappy shoes

and a wedding dress

The piano caught.

A crescendo of bright sparks

Splintered the sky

In a Ford Mustang

we cruised San Francisco Bay

recalculating

Across the railway

in the shadow of the crag

Margaret’s forest

In Quebec city

flowers and neighing horses

adorn cobbled streets

Philadelphia

smells like a cinnamon bun

A warm embrace

Next to a railway

in a field, they pull ragwort

for love of a horse

While her parents laugh

a clown with a painted smile

scares a little girl

My bedroom window

faces east. Every day

a fresh new palette