Taxi on the Quays

Jumping into a taxi not yet arrived is 

The best part of a night, like parcels
In transit, doing the rounds, taking in the
Usual sights with renewed wonder, though

Enough times I've been knocking the on

Door to know that the child's innocence

Is squandered. Walking to town, looking at

My father's tobacco stained hand is long

Gone. First thing in the morning - 

An Icey road, 

First thing in the morning, 

Going to the border carrying a load

Full of meat. 

Pyjamas and slippers,  

Watching street-lamps, 

Knees to my shoulder,

Like a hunching snowball.