New poem

Yeah, running a little late with this week's TWiN, what with Jaq and Joe's wedding this weekend and Willie being in town this last week. No worries, you'll have it soon enough. To tide you over, here's a new poem I wrote a week or so ago. Enjoy!


The Last Bullfighting Fan in Laredo

I was reading the Sun
Also Rises on the green couch
in the day room when I suddenly
proclaimed aloud that I loved
Ernest Hemingway.
Lillian, who had been diligently
pounding nails into the coffee
table, looked up at me, startled, her
eyes like two fallen scoops
of ice cream melting slowly across
a broken sidewalk. “Oh, you do,”
she said. “Well, who do you love
more, him or me?” “That’s tough
to say,” I replied, looking at her
face but not her ice cream scoops.
“Hemingway captured in prose
the fractured soul of man after
the first World War, but he has never
orally stimulated my penis to the point
of full climactic release.”
“Yet,” Lillian interjected, and “No,”
I agreed, “He hasn’t. Yet.”
At that point I pretended to return
to reading, leaving Lillian to her
dark task, but secretly I began
to consider the total cost of a bottle
of whiskey, a large-caliber firearm
and a plane ticket to Key West, or
if necessary, Spain.