Sunday 25 September 2016

Airbnb by Leo Cullen

Published 03/07/2016 | 02:30

When the summer's sun shines on our kitchen

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We throw open the patio double-doors

And go outside and decamp in the garden

And leave the house to the visitors.

They taxi indoors and put to the test

The breadcrumb situation underneath the table;

He, puffing his proprietorial red breast,

She, a-bustle in her housewifely apron;

Not a note out of either, total incommunicado,

Me enquiring: is there something wrong?

He beading me: no, we like your little bungalow;

Me making an offer: it's yours for a song.

Sunday Independent

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