Five AM, minus
Ten. Legs goosepimple under
Two pairs of stockings.
My fingers bitter
Punching an ATM that
Won't give my card back.
Feet turn to ice as
I wait twenty minutes for
A silver opel.
Squashed because I'm not
Quite sure how to say "shotgun
Not middle" in French.
The metro stinks of
Piss so I'm holding my breath
To keep down vomit.
See a passport at
The Eurostar office. It
feels like being punched.
Crying in the loos
Tell the cleaning lady what's
Wrong. Laughs in my face.
Then trying to cry
Persuasively at border
Control. (Doesn't work)
"Take line 2 to get
to the Irish Embassy."
There is no line 2.
Irish Embassy
Opening hours: half nine
To twelve. It's now one.
Yes, I'm blocking the
Staircase with my heavy case.
Whatever, don't help.
Blind beggar asks me
For spare change on the metro
No mate, my day's worse.
Train back to Clermont
Costs seventy-five euros
Return. FML.
Spend three and a half
Hours going back the way
I came from. Super!
French countryside, you
Bore me. Also, graffiti
is so ten years ago
so you should get some
petty criminals to wash
it off or something.
Watch the sun set and
Don't give a shit. (Saw it rise
Today already.)
Get a lift in a
Car full of French boys, trying
Not to laugh at me.
Fay made me a stuffed
Pepper but didn't even
Give me the red one.
Punched my passport in
The face. Yeah! That'll teach him.
I hurt my knuckles.
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