The whiff of patchouli whorls me from Poughkeepsie, New York
to Parnell street, and Fibber Magee’s,
and on to Harold’s Cross for the dogs,
or the lawn bowls we scored from the mattress on the flat’s roof.
Crosse & Blackwell steak and kidney pies and a 19p sliced white
that comes apart with the butter.
Heartburn and the butt jar the day before the dole.