Paris for a night

I boxed Hemingway in Paris last
night; I gave him a right hook he’ll
never
forget
and then I helped him off the
floor and bought him and Fitzy
a drink
at the bar
while Zelda worked out Fitzy’s
next great line.
I watched Picasso degrade his
Queen
so I called him an asshole right
to his face, then took Gertrude
out for more drinks and fought a
bull
without a sword or cape.
and all this after a stroll in the
pouring
rain, when I ambled for miles and
miles,
carrying and twirling my black
umbrella just in case the sun finally
came out to
wash away the blood
of all the fighters with nothing left to

lose.

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