So it maps a geographic question mark in and around Dublin . . .
Listen to the music . . . Let it wash over you . . .
Jump in and bob along . . . on a journey
not unlike a mind that found itself
whose suicide was foiled by a flower bed . . .
And so on . . .
Because they could see I enjoyed it
immensely
and really what's not to enjoy
what's not to - as Joyce - love loves to love love . . .
You immerse yourself . . . in all seven levels . . .
the chancier the encounter the better
the higher the high . . .
The shoe store . . . and the heels . . . which later - much later -
provide a metronomic accompaniment
following your exit stage left
but was it right? (yes, it was right) -
through the gift shop . . .
Stay the night . . .
The bread truck awaits . . .
Leave them to decipher your scribbles
and phony phone number
a Rubik's Cube on a Post-it
The boardwalk as padded cell of catch-and-release . . .
Impenetrable motivation leading to an A+ . . .
For what? . . .
That you emerged seemingly unscathed . . .
Yes, I suppose, one could argue
but to what end (à la Cicero to Catiline) . . .
mayhaps, your unruly big hair anointing the heads of players -
faceless extras in need of a community one-act -
transforming them into twitching uniformed schoolboys . . .
satchels bursting with how-tos . . . how-not-tos . . .
stumbling home to the sanctuary of mommy's milk and cookies . . .
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| Angeline Ball as Molly Bloom |
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