A middle aged woman shamelessly pouts for a selfie As she sits alone outside Butler’s; A fleeting insight into the Dublin of today, Broken buskers saluting wealthy suits and the hurried. The invisible homeless. The ghosts who wander into coffee shops, where they’re sure they lost a euro, while college students scrounge to buy a pint for 6. A winding path where the people flow like veins Pulsing through the streets that never change. It is the people who keep the city. The people, the flow; The unreliable bus service disrupting scheduled meals, Low blood sugars fueling angry drivers, and A haste to get everywhere before the next shower bursts. The infectious desire to travel, As tourists stare in awe at doors you’ve never noticed before, Experiencing your city as a pin on a map -Where you’ve never pinned it at all. Rooftops between the canal and the river; A refuge from the Georgian mansions that remain Stubborn in their depth, reluctant to relate to the redbrick-terraced hipsters That craftily have cycled their way to the forefront of the ‘culture’. You jaywalk; a term on erasmus from America as we try it out across O’Connell bridge, The space between the Heineken building and the island in the middle a no-man’s land as you feel you’re Traversing the centre of Ireland. The centre of my world; For up until today it is all I have known. A metal spike with no function seeing all While you see yourself in it’s base, longing in vain to catch a glimpse from the top, To be privy to a view it has been constructed to prevent. All too soon I will be gone; Shunning the gloom of Winter in Dublin, Missing only the familiar; I will acclimatize again. To write, to learn, to build understanding – To glean from another city the self this one has given me.