[In the last two parts of the Ekphrasis section of 64, there is a clumsy interval, in which the best man attempts to make a speech and Padraig composes a lame off-the-cuff self-congratulatory limerick. He then goes on to tell the final part of the Ariadne story, which is even more disturbing and out-of-place than the previous narrative and for reason of which he is (as we will discover in the following section) ejected from the wedding reception.

According to Greek mythology, after being abandoned by Theseus on Naxos, Ariadne was seduced by the god Dionysus (Bacchus in Latin), god of wine and ecstatic dance. There is a famous Titian painting of this scene, entitled Bacchus and Ariadne (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bacchus_and_Ariadne), which is (like much classical literature), when stripped of the aura of awe that also surrounds Renaissance artwork, in fact both comical (if not comic-like) and extremely perturbing.]

 

(9)

The pipers pipe up and Padraig apologizes

for a tale that may not actually, now he thinks of it,

have been that appropriate for the occasion,

and might have marred a tad the guests’ enjoyment of this happy day.

But the gaggle of wedding-goers that have now crowded round

egg him on. He suggests they pause a wee while

as the gathered throng toast the bride…

The best man totters up to the high table arching forward

ominously over the remains of the wedding cake.

“Far be it for me to bother you in your debauchery,”

he winks at giggling bridesmaids,

“still less to cast aspersions on the honor of the virgin bride…

‘Cept I seem to remember seeing her in a film in Soho,

way back when… Don’t go there, man. Good job the wedding’s

over and done and there’s no going back now

and most of youse are too drunk to care.

Let’s just say I bought the groom a bucket of Viagra™ as a wedding present

& I just saw he left it behind in the loo. So there won’t be much

in the way of a bun in the oven any time soon…”

His jokes fell flat, he thought.

Time to sit down.

*

“Thank you for that, I think, good man.” Padraig

drools, as unctuous as a third-rate game-show host,

and exhorts guests to applaud. Some do;

some boo. He picks up a bodhrán and resumes his song.

 

(10)

“There once was a girl called Ariadne.

If I hadn’t moved quick, she’d have had me.

She screwed my best friend;

drove us all round the bend.

But now I believe she’s the best ad for me!”

The clumsy limerick culls only muted applause.

Padraig goes on in slurred free verse…

“Now the bird I was talking about, that Ariadne,

went on to hook up with a smack-head

on that beach on Naxos. Some guy with a pony-tail

called Denis. And they were like that, going round the bars,

taking all the drugs, life and soul of the party-scene, if you know what I mean…

Till one night he’s off his head and got her back in their hotel room

and all over her and she’s not in the mood; ‘fuck off mate’ much on her sleepy lips

‘We should’ve gone to that party instead of getting drunk and stoned here’

And then he’s suddenly inside her and she’s all limp and half crying

and half laughing it off and saying no. And she could swear he had grown horns

& then it was all crying rape and wolf and he was off like a streak of lightning

& she sobbing in the bathroom and stuffing the rest of his gear into one last free vein…”

*

“The police sirens in Greece sound the way they do everywhere else in the world

& when they batter down the door it ain’t no pretty sight:

signs of a tussle on the double bed,

one dead leg hanging out of a bathtub, needle still attached,

a tattoo.

No guns here; no foul play.”