As the tourist/visitor struggles with his digital camera
On the Lower Newtownards road.
Careful of our un-regarding traffic, he gets it all framed,
Finding beauty or curiosity in the awkward form of the gunman
Painted on the gable - a pantheon of ciphers for belief, fear,
Creativity, distrust, pride; that apes tradition.
What goes through our minds who have to live here (yet not in here).
The faintest tinge of what we are now calling culture
Sticking like dried paint to the margin of a nail on our right hand
Signifying our complicity.
Were we really up last night painting kerbs
Or was that just some wild suffocating dream.