Shorter Nights


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Oh, there’s long night up ahead, I think,

While I know in my head it’ll be a short one.

I watch the window and hear the reverberating of

Collegiate Irishmen, or wanna-be Irishmen,

Parading and prancing through the streets,

Through the conventions of higher learning,

The “establishment”, the “system”, the “institution”,

As if the establishment is out to halt their

Pretending-to-be-Irish,  like it’s a secret, a disguise

They wear and are ashamed of admitting, a self

They wish they could shun for just one night, like a

Superhero without his mask or a cape to fly with;

One would then think that they would try to act like

Those they admire or pretend to be so fervently.

I don’t mind the insecurities brought about by a

Partial heritage to an island in the Atlantic, but I know

It’ll be a short night as soon as I manage to sleep

Away the disturbances from those damn Irishmen

Because I have a Spanish exam in the morrow, and

Have no desire to fail it for a few drinks and

A plate of corned beef and cabbage on the side.

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