“Two Uncle Mikes Walk into a Bar…”


bachmr-dooleysThe year was 1995, and I turned 21 that year. It was an auspicious time, filled with many misadventures and many happy circumstances. I was blessed with a great deal of luck and privilege, and my guardian angel surely deserved an award for guiding me past any and all adversities that came my way.

On Thursday, March 16,  I crossed the threshold at 77 Broad Street, around 5pm, wearing my Tartan Scally Hat. I was to meet my Da there, for an after work birthday pint. To those not in the know 77 Broad Street, Boston, is one of the finest drinking establishments in town, Mr. Dooley’s Tavern. It is a place that is both small and large, and contains the kind of charm that a wide-eyed late teen/early twenty-something would covet from afar when starting to desire and plan to drink legally.

Somehow, the word got around to my Uncle Mikes (I have two Uncle Mikes, a paternal and a maternal ) that I was meeting my Da for a pint at Dooley’s. If there is a crossroads of time, or an alternate universe where I could re-experience this night again, I would do so. The magic of it is well remembered and cherished.

I sat and waited for my Da to come, and in walked my first Uncle Mike.


He was also wearing a Scally Cap. He sat and we shared a drink. A moment later, my second Uncle Mike walked into Dooley’s.

100_0814  He was also wearing a Scally Cap.

Last but not least, in walked Da, and you guessed it, he was wearing his Scally Cap too.

The mood was convivial, and I felt as if I had been baptized, brought into the club, as if I was one of the guys. It felt great. It still feels great.

On this, the 23 anniversary of that event. I thank the universe for such a gift.

Although, Da has moved on to Broader Streets,


I still have my Uncle Mikes, and when I lift a pint, I think back to that night, huddled in a booth,


sipping pints, four huge Irish-American heads covered in Scally Caps, welcoming a young lad into the fold.





“Leprechaun Eating Dog 🍀”

“Leprechaun Eating Dog 🍀

Albert the Schnauzer,

mouse rabble rouser.

Loved walking on Emerald Hill.

Had eyes like an eagle,

the nose of a Beagle.

Retrieved any item at will.

Every March Seventeenth,

he sharpened his teeth.

Preparing for Leprechaun bones.

If memory was kind,

Albert would find,

his treasure out near rainbows.

At last, he caught scent,

of a wee green gent.

Away, the path to unfold.

By the gift of God’s grace,

he quickened his pace,

and found him atop of some gold.

Albert pounced upon,

that damn Leprechaun.

Catching him in his maw.

No tricks or mischief,

will help that elf live.

Just a shillelagh stuck in Al’s craw.

“Copper Cougher”


“Copper Cougher” © C.P. Hickey 2018



“Copper Cougher”

Copper Cougher in my hand,

cuckold coinage, no demand.

Legal tender, worn receipt.

Pocket jingles, obsolete.

Coffers empty hoarded cents.

Debtor’s duly recompense.

Shiny depths, sunken pool.

Buried treasury, fed approved.

Barrels of collected copper,

bankrolled Coinstar, due and proper.

Lucky penny, found obscured,

fate all twisted and enured.

Without the magic of the token,

serendipity goes unspoken.

Lucky, lucky, lucky penny.

In my life, good and plenty.

Not a nickel, not a dime,

a quarter oxidized with grime.

Kept with tact and guile,

Honest Abe’s striking profile.

Of all the coins in history,

the Copper Cougher remains the King.

Dull Metal. Cushioned box

I’m really enjoying the lines of this cat, right here. Give it some attention. Give it some love. Definitely worth a follow.


One dead light bulb
Adding a tad more darkness
To my vanity

A gray pallor, blue under the eyes
Heading to a cubicle cell
I need the road or too soon I’ll die

From my father’s obituary
“Never wanted to take the same way to work twice”
Once the roots dug in
So too the worms would make nice

Sold your, warrior, capped tin.
I awoke to find mine, mirrored coffin

Sustantivos where have you been?
Trapped inside, dimming light, dying friend

look long enough and the shine you will see
behind the lid, past the glass, where the dirt must be

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