Hemmingway chopped out
those crisp sentences
and short paragraphs
directly masturbating
onto an innocent page
and so enamored
the bullfighter
and war correspondence
sipping tea in Paris
we creamed all over ourselves
ready to glorify
the fiction; the masochism
and what was all too often
a fraud of our own creation
to this day,
I remained convinced
that no one exposed Ernest
in the end
Ernie exposed us
and revealed a fraud
most of us
can still not admit