by J. Sean Rafferty
For Patrick Kavanagh
The cop cars go by in twos and threes –
There’s a rave in Danny Dyer’s flat tonight
And there’s the half-emoji texts of delinquency,
the coarse, yank language, the drunken fights.
Half-past ten and there is not a parking spot
Upon a mile of suburb, no party thrown
That would turn out a sorority girl, not
A frat boy toking, blazing or stoned.
I have what every Irishman loves in spite
Of all the bitter talk of objectification.
Oh, god knows I have the right
To be the stereotype of a nation.
A road, a mile of suburb. I am King
Of shots and cheer and every blessed thing.
J. Sean Rafferty is a redhead, a godfather and an eejit. He is an MA English Lit student at Ulster University and was a finalist in the 2018 Ulster Poetry Slam. His work has previously been published in Gravitas and The Paperclip. When not losing games of pool he, sometimes, writes stuff.
the alcalá review 