This is a guest post by Kevin Higgins.
after Ernest Hemingway
When he visits his sister in Tucson
and beholds
the magnitude of the burgers,
he thinks it a pity
America was ever discovered;
prefers nut roasts
done on a stove powered
by fair trade
plutonium; invites
an asylum seeker
to watch him eat breakfast
every other Friday, asks himself
what this says about our society in which
he insists on including you.
He takes pride in his work
directing a non-profit
that makes socially aware
pornography for
visually impaired former
girl child soldiers. Before he left
his last wife, he had the affair
with his secretary blessed
by a liberation theologist;
last Saturday, spent
so long reading The Irish Times
he grew a second
backside; emerged
from the conservatory
emitting the words
Polar Bears, Tibet,
Venezuela
with the priestly whisper
of someone laying
a wreath on his own grave.
