living in a great big way

shove it, Patrick, I’ve heard enough about
the weather, tell me about the time you
swam a mile and a half down the Nile
with the alligators, about how you hand-
wrestled this man called Hercules and
almost won.
tell me of the time you bedded down with
three ladies for 9 hours, satisfied them all
and still had enough left 2 days later to
enable you to finish 4th in the Boston
Marathon.
I never tire of hearing of these things.
or about the time you debated with
Descartes, sailed with Bowditch.
you’re the one I look up to.
pour me a drink too, thank you.
you pitched 3 no-hitters in Japan, you
sparred with Primo Carnera, you were
a picador for Manolete.
you were there when the Babe hit his
last homer in Mexico in
1946.
you’ve been married 7 times, been
knifed 3 times,
shot twice.
you’ve been in 4 mental institutions.
you’ve been caged with tigers, you’ve
galloped elephants.
but, Patrick, you’ve been fucking with
my girlfriend.
so I’m going to blow your brains out
with this .45
now tell me about the weather.
I want to hear all about it.
start talking.
I won’t tell you when to stop.
it’ll just get dark.
you’ve had your last
fart, dear
friend.