Galway in the Summer

Melting tar, the smell of hot dog dirt,
young mothers in skimpy clothes
parade their babies up and down the path.
Socks in sandals and sunburned faces,
flocks of old tourists are herded
through the streets like sheep.
Loud Americans line the bridge dressed
from head to toe in green.
The patchy grass of Eyre Square is
smothered in hippies, ass-cracks and Polish.
The crash and bang of construction work,
with an endless supply of men in yellow jackets.
Two scruffy men sitting in a bus stop,
discussing politics and this evenings bed,
while sipping on cans of cheap cider.
A shaggy dog, with an even hairier owner
busks outside a shop window.
Crows fight for food in Spanish Arch,
as foreigners and Irish alike encourage them.
This, my friends, is Galway in the Summer.