I went to the Irish Embassy tonight to pay tribute to the great poet Seamus Heaney.
There was nobody there but a security guard. He asked me what I wanted.
I said, “Seamus Heaney died. I wanted to be here.” He said, “Who?”
I said, “He was Irish. He was the greatest poet writing in English.”
“Oh, ” he said. “Everyone’s gone home for the weekend.”
“That’s okay,” I said, “I’ll just sit here and read his poetry for awhile.”
“Well, I guess that’s okay,” he said.
So I sat on the curb and read “The Redress of Poetry.”