BAD DREAM

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BAD DREAM
Maybe it was a dream I once had
This part of Ireland with no lights on
A place where strangers
Looked over the border
With razor-blade eyes
Where tall trees swayed South
From one vast plantation
And bowler-hatted drum-bangers
Stomped the streets like toy soldiers.

A game – perhaps that was it;
Where the lowest common denominator
Was religion…or the lack of it.

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