One night, in San Francisco's North Beach, broke,
with no more desire to be "gainfully employed,"
the American Dream a scheme from which to awake.

i enter a classroom in which students are taking a test,
and sit down at a desk. On the right-hand side of the page
are the questions, on the left is a list of five possible
replies. i read the first question, then look at the choices.
All are arbitrary; all in their own way answer the question.

Decades later, strolling along Portland's chi-chi
23rd Avenue, I muse on the only luxury I can afford:
Time: the flâneur's monstrous SUV, the poet's non-
retirement plan.

 

 

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