third world Europe

I’ve eaten at Hemingways in Faro

sipping my beer

& wondering how much

ole Ernie would have loved

the purple bougainvillea

framing the door

the blue jacarandas in the square

placed a red bandanna

around his statue’d neck

at the start of San Fermin feria

in homage to the man

the battle of the moors

before running before the bulls

gaining my own Pamplona scars

living to tell the tales

Hem’ came from the first world

defined by modernism

yet seeking in our ancient ways

its own elegant sophisticated

third world ways where

we cannot be modern

his own home truths

wars, women, eternal life

defining himself

by not being us

taking what he felt

he best of the old world

into the new

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