At St Augustine’s

I be Yellow Yard summer seat waiting with a breeze. High day sunning in a trees. Them be oak be sisters three and them be dancin’ just for me. Derry walls be tower up high, Bogside she be hunker low. Lunchtime peoples comes and goes, talks from bitcoin, I don’t know. Augustine, I’m say him howdy do, him wave on over, how you be? Not so bad, I’m say him back. Clock be tick for show to go. Graveyard peoples rubbernecks, knows me show, and wants ta look. Gots plenty stuff in plastic bag, props for what me wants ta say. All them womens’ rape and war, show I’m got ‘bout misso genie. Pal come latey from parka car, smile and wave, she happy be. Hair be crop and breast be flop. I’m gets up, we starts ta play. Augie ups and lets a cheer, and all them dead planters claps for we.