Agents Abroad Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

Agents Abroad.
Tiny rooms in basements somewhere not far from the docks,
pink light, no air-conditions. Cartagena girls on contract going
from city to city, best years were as shorts as footballers; only
girls had shorter contracts. I remember this because Obama’s
security guards, coming to a foreign country went wild, living
as they do in a country where the puritans rule, those caught
philandering like Tiger Woods, get his balls cut off and he will
never be great again. Ok, Obama’s guards should be mortified
it is just the freedom to be a man not having going through
rituals of courtships must be great. Not easy to be American
male squeezed into an iron jumper of the moral brigade, all is
legal as long as you don’t get caught…and if you get trapped
go to the nearest church and confess in public, tell everyone
you are a Christians who have sinned, you’ll be forgiven if you
castigate enough, tears will help; but remember do not argue
with a prostitute.