They took me for a curiosity. I was hauled to their cities in chains, a thing to leer at. One night I bit out my jailer’s throat and ran free under the moon. By then I knew speech. I made my way to the New World on a steamship.
By the time hair sprouted on my chest I’d tamed lands, beasts, and women. Dark eyed servant girls laughed and filled my cup with wine; my cellars were stacked high with gold. Still. I was troubled by dreams. Talons of snow in the dark. The shrieking wind.
Now I live in Carmichael
Hang gliding. Paragliding. Flying private planes drunk like JFK junior. Chess. Jaguar wrangling. The finest Colombian cocaine. Skeet shooting, both the shooting clay shit with a goose gun kind and the porno kind. I also teach adult literacy classes at the library.
Seriously: I have a job, I do OK. It’s not my life. I do it so I can get a check that lets me make art, hear music and travel.