QUINN THE LARGE
Quinn, you fat bastard,
O’Brien exclaimed,
Give me a smoke.
Quinn, despite being
Twice the size of O’Brien,
Obliged. He removed
Two cigarettes
From his school satchel
And handed one to O’Brien.
He lit both cigarettes
With a match he’d struck
On a box. How’s your sister?
O’Brien enquired, still thinking
Of being the nun? Quinn inhaled
And nodded. O’Brien puffed
On the cigarette. He pictured
Quinn’s sister dressed up
As a nun, but it didn’t square
With the obese bitch he knew,
Who once cornered him
In the boy’s toilets
For a kiss and grope.
She wants to be a nun
Of The Little Sisters of Jesus,
Quinn said as he exhaled
Smoke into the air. Little Sisters,
You say, O’Brien chortled,
Studying Quinn’s piggy eyes.
Father O’ Leary said she’d make
A good nun, Quinn stated.
No doubt, she will, O’Brien said,
I can see her now, all bound up
In her habit cloth, the size
Of a ship’s sail, drifting down
The cloisters carried by the wind.
Quinn inhaled the smoke.
O’Brien laughed. Quinn frowned,
He couldn’t see the joke.
Just saw O’Brien’s shoulders
Rise and fall, the cigarette
Hanging loose from his lips,
The gazing blue eyes,
Too much the jester,
Too much the fool.
