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.”