Away from it all

by John Boland

(for Steve)

Here in Sardinia
on a brief junket,
I soak up the sun,

and listen to a woman
who tells of a love
that came undone,

and there in a golf club
(another brief junket)
somewhere in Sligo,

you sweat in a sauna
on the morning after
a long night before

until life says no more.
I hear it on the news
in the taxi back home,

and recall dawdling over
my continental breakfast
in a heat-drenched square,

while someone in a room
of wood and vapours tries
to give you some more air.

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