Lament For A Latter Day Progressive

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,
with the priestly whisper
                of someone laying
a wreath on his own grave.