(Dedicated to a friend who understands.)
O hallowed house of the greasy chicken snack box,
You haunt my dreams.
One reckless visit in Oughterard (its really a place)
And now I can no longer walk my city’s streets
Without fear of the fumes that waft from your premises,
Inducing cravings for your delectable products.
I once thought that you were only for culchies – fool that I was!
I laughed at them, flocking to your door
Past McDonalds and Burger King and other (cheaper) options,
Now I laugh no more, but salivate,
And long for the day when I have €7
And can buy another snack box meal.