I hitched a lift from Millstreet
to Mallow, a farmer leaving
The Sandpit House picked
me up, a Volkswagen it was,
blue and the wooden trailer
was green, stuffed full with
Kerry sheep and a basket of
new born pups which he got
rid of at the bridge over the
Blackwater River along by
Irish Sugar Factory. For just
a minute I thought he was
going to ask me to give him
a hand with the sheep, but
no, he drove on and stopped
at Doris Barry’s house but
before I alighted I enquired
as to why he had removed
his rear view mirror, bearing
in mind he hadn’t shaved.

He said he had enough to
deal with up front than be
bothered about the behind.

I never looked back either
but I won’t forget the live
pups the overcrowding in
that tiny pen and that man,
his complete lack of empathy
and if it wasn’t for his dead
battery and needing a push
at the pub, he wouldn’t have
even given a **** about me.

One doesn’t need a mirror to
ponder on the Past and I do
wonder how its reflection in
the Future will be visited by
those who are unseeing the
Present genocide of Gaza?