Shane and Peter by Casey Barrett

Poetry

Pete, been a bit

how’s it? 

Veins are clear,

the liver, still alive. 

To health, then. 

How’s our friend,

saw the story.

Sinead, she’s doing well. 

Right side of history, that one.

All those pearl clutchers 

pissing on about the Pope ripping.

Remember that? 

Like John Paul didn’t know about the pedos.

They all did.

Even blue-eyed Frank,

crooning gangster bitch.

Called her a stupid broad, didn’t he?

Always thought his songs were sappy shite.

Americans…

What’s to be done?

Tearing a pic of the pontiff 

in front of millions.

There’s a start.

Respect, infinite

and that’s coming from a Catholic.

You’re not, still?

Am indeed,

it’s the saints and superstition,

the clothed were always cunts. 

No argument there.

Say, have any fuel for an old man?

Like fuck, put out your hand.

Always the gent, my lad.

Always a pleasure, master.

Casey Barrett is the author of three crime novels, two of which have been nominated for the Shamus Award by the Private Eye Writers of America. He is a Canadian Olympian and the co-founder and co-CEO of Imagine Swimming, New York City’s largest learn-to-swim school. His short fiction, essays, and books coverage have appeared in The Village Voice, Mystery Tribune, Crime Reads, Booktrib, and elsewhere.