What in God’s name if you had a piece of everybody?
Colin Farrell’s face, Tom Hardy’s torso and Seamus Heaney’s hands
His right-hand more so
You’d walk around, people every which way feeling the need to take a second glance, sizing up this, their one and only chance in a lifetime to get to meet their idol
They touch your hand and you’re Heaney, tap you on the shoulder, you become Hardy
Stare at your face and you’re a movie-star
What people can only hope for, to be fair
For people to always and forever stare in their direction
A piece of everybody, the way it should be, no such mistake ever made by you and me, women approach because they cannot but, men wanting to know how it is you got to look this good
The best gym-instructors the world over wondering where you managed to create such a finely toned torso
People will want you to read a million and one poems ’til your audience cannot but invite you on home, wining and dining ’til the cows come home, and as soon as they do you get to eat them too
You’d lead the most charmed life in the world, absurdly jealous is undoubtedly what some people will be, and those, put plain and simple, are the ones who won’t matter to you and me
Take it all in your stride, whether romancing the hottest girl out there, or publishing the best poems in the land courtesy of Heaney’s deft right-hand, you’ll smile that charming Colin Farrell smile, get to enjoy the lifelong ‘ride’