drove into town

bought Maria some presents

only to run out of gas-

thought i was bulletproof.

days after id been shot at

my eyes blew out

till the daylight waved like castoff maple leaves-

now i pretend colors every time im assassinated.

dropped out of a $20 ante poker game

used what i bluffed

bought a buckskin pony and some wild turkey.

today Maria and i finished our breakfast, slowly- guessing

gifts like these are part of the search,

was never any good at spending someone else’s cash

translating fictional poets

empathizing with other’s paintings.

“hadn’t written a dream down in near six months”

some guy from St. Paul once told me,

and it was then i sanctioned talkin fast and loose-

so now i get around too, recognizing

dreams are the haircurlers between our eyelids.

“how’d you get to be a Poet?”

Maria skeptically grinned between coffee refills

unwrapping another gift.

“memorized a manual on target practice”, i surrendered.

“well thanks for buying me all these sunglasses”, she blinked.

these days i don’t even bother reading over menus

having passed the physical,

failing the metaphysical,

thinking i was bulletproof.

1982

NYC