walked out the back door

and rolled away in that Bronco

with his screwdriver

jammed in the ignition

So began (ended) my days dealing dope

though I discreetly followed in my Pacer

to where he pulled up into the weeds

and waddled round and up

the porch steps

the argument ended with his shotgun

poked through the blinds

and me high-tailing it

-a reference to deer in flight

or rabbits, maybe.

I have aspired

to predation

and other sorts of boldness

made a study of it, but not made the grade.

Too cerebral, I’m told.

Is it in gray matter

that we transform

by magic into giants

sprout wings, and cast spells

inspiring awe in mortals

who remind us of ourselves

looking up from sweltering grocery lots

or with faces squished

mouths agape on car windows?

What cortex fires visions

of a fabulous self, a less wholesome self

who might be a bad bet

to mess with, capable of villainy,

or laudable -though messy- revenge?

Thus freshly impoverished

I shop-lifted some cheese

and went to jail

where they fed me a slice of bologna

on Wonder Bread