busing Aiporting the first instances of traveling lone ranger suspected, customs wired up walkie talkie take your shoes off put your shoes on, take your shoes off, X-ray your inner demons suspect terrorist scanned eyes, scanned paws wrong hand nerves left right left right tom thumb scanned filed, what is your purpose for your visit why didn’t you stay longer in the most expensive place in the world who knows who cares is it your fillings are they made from bombs, wish I hadn’t stood in ashes before I put my shoes on in the morning, dirty socks standing wide eyed sweating hangover out at customs staredown, give up now turn back to the irish soil and stay at home the lines and paths and questions make me wonder who put this system together, sitting in room training show us your best stink eye no more more more intense stink eye stare down skills homeland security homeland security customs america america the free world the tourist interrogation. flying through the air looking through the clouds and wondering flight miles cabin crew mishaps and trolleys filled with over priced shite trapped in the air cabin of the big steel flight machine, off across an entire ocean to minus 13 wind chill freezing, baggage mishaps and broken suitcase wheeling along a twisting fighting monster, gawking at times square big lights and bright flashy madness, wondering what kinda shite did i bring to wear not a stitch of it practical wear in the cold spell of the city that never sleeps jet lag wonders blocked brain snots from reconditioned air, sleeping eh noisey noise invaded my brain as I tried to slumber made for a weird dreaming filled with twisted words mingling with subconscious conscious horrors sirens and shouting endless movement whirling swirling through the air, blueberry pancakes nanny look afters Miki’s golden heart breakfast, I wonder I wonder as I look at the big streets the passing people quicker and louder faster than anywhere i have been before, Vips with silver card free coffee in wood panel room, walking in a museum 8 blocks long looking at gathered bones of ancient beasts dinosaurs artifacts thousands of people walk in wonder, we sit in the space machine internal new age projector showing space in 3d magic shooting stars indoors universe tales wide eyed imagination fired off possibilities, while rasher he got some sleep, live butterflies from all the continents in air controlled room fly around my head colours so vivid flapping around me alive inside, Brooklyn cocktails Japanese dinners frat boys behind me filth mouth chatter put me off my dinner, wandering studio robotics clever friend big bold imagination success proud moments, ubering new years wandering house of yes swan lake the seizure across the floor the blood line of flatline movements in a pattern thats never been seen before doc martens harsh feet flatley's cousin new york times invader Jameson whiskey breath and laughter in the bogger accent who is it your talking to I have no cares for front page or back page or event page or whats hip happening im here ta me anseo twiddley fucken diddley hoodley oirish, flash flash flash don't put my picture in the paper im in the Irish mafia, new years new cheers bare ass gold painted body g-string clad lunatic oooo your Irish I love the Irish, Robots coming in at all angles lighting up the view, podium dancers and t rex heads swinging from the ceiling posers chancers and dancers and me, 3000.. 4000.. millions contained in the greater mass of happenings in the big bold world of wonders New York city nightlife bodies swaying styling hip operations to a beat of a 90's tune. ubered out a there into a fancy house where barely understood rambling accent misheard's on a drunken tongue hieroglyphics occurred. wondering endlessly if the cluchie could ever get cultured in the yogurt brain of the world, blue noted next day chris botti trumpetered out I became micheal flatleys niece erin jokes got misheard, do you guys have black guys in Ireland?... weird lines in strange places new yorker has never got out or used google, next day met museum Egypt 3000 year old mummies full pyramids and sphinx, Dali hockney all the bais famous masters only ever seen in a book now on walls in my present or me in theirs all the famous wans pure got wide eyed Picasso, otto dix, norman rockwells soft gentle style, george tooker took my breath away with his peeping eyes, guggyheim china has come to town ai wei wei and the burning rats, king penguins painted a circle of wanders brought me round more old masters more views than my eyes could process, awake and dreaming live everyday like its you’re birthday wide open views falling asunder under jet lag snots