Someplace you can easily blend in. But I’ve become so obedient, quiet, grateful for attention, and was always, if truth be told (which it is, I’ve told it) colorless, I could blend in anyplace. Anywhere people walk with canes, the halt, the blind, haters of cold, sufferers. (I don’t discuss the cane, the lasting fruit of a brief misunderstanding. I miss the one my late associates bought me.) The agents – the usual three, a pleasant girl, one harsh one silent guy – show pictures of a bungalow twelve limping blocks from a crowded beach. It will do. An office where I shall uncreatively keep accounts. Local amenities one could, I suppose, develop a taste for. I nod and nod. I nod at all the rules. They want me to sign, for the last time, my real name. Are surprised when I say I want my former boss to show me around the house, his genuinely evil woman to choose the suits I will wear to work, his chief enforcer, crushing every impulse, to swing my hammock.
Author of two book-length narrative poems, THE ADVENTURE and HAPPINESS (Story Line Press; the former to be reissued by Red Hen Press), and two collections, A POVERTY OF WORDS (Prolific Press, 2015) and LANDSCAPE WITH MUTANT (Smokestack Books, UK, 2018). Many other poems in print and online journals.