when i was younger even than now
i had an affair with ernest hemingway
not many people know that but it’s true
anyway one evening in havana
we were drinking in this grubby bar
“los something or other” it was called
i was on caipiriñas
and ernie was throwing back bourbon
and carrot juice “shit in an orange”
i used to call it but he couldn’t
get enough o the stuff
anyway we’d been there about twenty
minutes or so drinking laughing listening to
the piano player lounging out easy jazz
when
these two big white guys stopped
like heavy diesel
at our table and one of ‘em
the one without the scar
two eighty pounds i reckon of ugly
son of a bitch said
“you guys fags or something?”
i looked at ernie ‘n ernie
looked at me then we both looked
at the ugly son of a bitch but only
ernie spoke he said, ”you talkin to us?”
“yeah, i’m talkin to you, you faggots”
said the ugly son of a bitch
“’n i’m askin, are you guys fags?”
ernie rose to his feet bout two inches
shorter and quite a few pounds lighter
than the ugly s.o.b. “yeah, we’re fags” he said
and threw a straight right, bam! no warning
no backswing, bam! on the ugly son of a bitch’s
nose
and while the jazz smoothed on and
the crowd yakked and badmouthed
and laughed and hit on each other and
whispered in each others ears
and planned rapine and revolution
seduction and murder and escape
from the nagging and crying and diapers
and the heavy weight of surviving
that ugly son of a bitch shrunk
into a sad son of a bitch as he fell under
the hemingway axe of hardened steel
like a giant oak with a trunk of butter
and he lay there a while in the sawdust
and the noise
and when he looked up
his nose was a funny shape
and more than that his eyes
his eyes inside, the way they looked
was the same
kind of crooked
and after a while he started making
a high pitched mewling sound
like the noise my cousin T used to make
when he was describing the noise women
would make when he screwed ‘em
only i knew it was bullshit from a calf
knee deep in it
and his partner in bullshit bent down ‘n
pulled, but that was no use so he had to
get down on one knee ‘n haul the ugly
s.o.b. still making that animal in pain noise
to his feet all the while the both of em
their scared shitless eyes fixed on ernie
who stood there hardly breathing at all
it seemed to me
but he was breathing alright
just fine
and when the two pugs made vertical
they just swayed there
the one unable to move his feet one way
or another and the other one keeping the ugly
son of a bitch from collapsing again
the both of em
wobbling ‘n swaying ‘n balancing like a third
string variety tumbling act
then ernie put his big lefty paw over my shaking hand
(the one stuck to the edge of the drink-wet table) and
said, “take me back to the hotel ‘n fuck me.
call me “papa” a few times while you’re doing it”
so i took him
back
to the hotel
‘n i did
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