An oracle said
“Why would you compete in something you’re not good at?”
I ignored her and
went about like someone
who wouldn’t tell the story straight?
They haunted me
like the sun of
the morning’s carte blanche
with Job at the mercy
of his hands,
her words.
A manageable nightmare
stretching for the
best part of my maturity,
longevity lives here!
Random whispers in
the middle of darkness,
12:30 post meridian.
I might as well
expect stars among cows;
“heart contentment over everything.
Poetry is Bucho,
you’re el Mariachi.”
