Molloy is riding his bike to see his mum,
she lives on a pension half her size,
she starts her day early and naps later.
Molloy doesn’t know Samuel Beckett
is writing the way Molloy rides the miles
smelling clean air like Joyce’s river Liffey.
Molloy wants to get there to see the ships
come in, he wants to try to stowaway,
he would like to leave Ireland for good.
Or ill, Molloy thinks he may be erring,
it’s a chance any Irishman must take
when there’s no way out other than this
big ship that makes the bike he’s riding
seem like a wisp of cloud this sunny day.
(23 October 2010)