A Dublin Ghost – Carole Stafford

“BANG BANG – YOU’RE DEAD” he said
And we would play along with Bang Bang,
Orphaned and unhinged by sadness.
Slapping his backside, he’d ride the Dublin buses,
Wielding a huge church key and mischievous smile.

We loved his antics and marvelled when grown ups
played too,
Fingers and umbrellas drawn against pistol
As key became gun to shoot them dead.
Fake moans and cries for help would drown our giggles
And we’d all be happy.

He loved the movies – pain doused by cowboys, “Injuns”
and John Wayne his idol.
How we cope.
Now Bang Bang IS dead, but I still see him
Round the streets of Dublin
And smile.

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