Last night I had
am in Alberta, Canada, looking for an automobile
part with a man who is both an intellectual and
a racing car enthusiast. He
knows this city, where i have never been before, and guides
me through the portal
into a large arcade.
pass a bulletin board crowded with messages.
One, a white rectangular card, catches my attention. I show
it to my friend the card, who says, "So what?"
i know that the names on the message
are those of witnesses, that the message
is from the poet Robert Creeley, and is meant for me.