Confusion

“Aficionado?”

   He was thin moustached

      Stringed sombrero dangling behind

 

      His eyes

          Thick down-browed lashes

      Spoke:

 

                “A lover of the bulls, senor?

                  The art?

                       The beauty of the kill?

                  Conquistadore?

                         Are you brave?

                     Aficionado?

 

                     “Is that what you sell, death?”, I thought.

                     “Hemingway is dead,” I said, “How much?”