On Friday, I had Japanese food for dinner with some wine and went to go see The Boat That Rocked (would not recommend), and talked.
On Saturday, I took a drive along the coast, down through Dun Laoghaire, Blackrock, Dalkey, and Bray. I laid on the grass in the sunshine and ate trail mix and laughed. I had a fish cake with chips. And I laughed, and I laughed, and I laughed. I listened to a man play guitar. I had some tea. I said hello to a couple of people I hadn’t met before. I looked through a tour guide to New York. I went to a Thai restaurant and ordered pad thai. I ate this and looked at pictures from a trip long ago. Then it started to get late. We made chocolate chip cookies and danced to Joni Mitchell until 2 a.m.
On Sunday, I woke up, I showered, I met up with a friend for brunch and bought some new clothes and walked down Grafton Street and had a cup of coffee. I arrived home very tired but very content.
Well, loving is as loving does, and I’d say we should know, because we both have loved, have lost, and are alone. Your face’s falling tears, to me they’re lovely and they’re dear, though you don’t love me and it’s clear that I will never see you in my arms. There’s no room in your heart for even this finely-sharpened dart; although I had started to think there might be hope, it isn’t so. So wake up, make up some new song again around the same tune.