The American Duel
Nevermind the exchange of letters,
epithets, the appointing of seconds,
choosing of time and place (Vidalia,
Weehauken, The Oaks…)
the wrangling over the nature
of the insult (“Sir, though you may say you meant Miss Slather
no offense, your left eyebrow
indicates otherwise
so now I must call you rude, Sir, and a calumniator.”
Instead of that
let us choose a pistol, eschew
rising early and wetting our boots
and pant-cuffs with dew.
Instead, let us meet after brunch
in the undertaker’s parlor,
let us sit knee to knee,
the pistol on a stool beside us.
Then, after saluting each other
and instructing our friends
our honor is ours only, let us,
let us flip a coin
and the winner shall take up the pistol
and shoot the loser
between the eyes or, if it be over an insult (as in
this case) to the fairer sex, let the winner
shoot the loser in the heart. This
is an American duel, how we fight,
how we respond to nose-pulling,
unlike the foppish French
or the English, who wrap their umbrellas
so astonishingly tight.