I was on a radio show
hosted by a beautiful, tall blonde gal
from Toronto who had a knack for filling space,
and it was my job to promote poetics,
but also be funny, be my own
wingman, if you will.
Soon I became the star
and she was asking me questions
about pop culture, and my favorites
and she was shocked when she learned
that I was a big basketball fan, because,
in her words, I look like an artist.
I assured her that I was/am an artist,
but I also love sports and writing about them.
It is a curse to be funny,
but also a blessing because attention,
especially from a stunning blonde radio host
is always a good thing and rare.
I don't care who you are,
a recluse, a misanthrope,
attention brings out the rainbow dreams
in all of us, just like creativity,
but more so the kind of art that gets a wayward wink.
Later, in my decaying truck,
sitting in a railyard in the West,
I got a textmessage from that tall, beautiful blonde,
saying thanks and saying that I was funny,
asking if I wanted to grab coffee sometime.
That would only be a let down for
one of us or both of us.
The advance made my day, my week, etc,
but like Camus said,
there is nothing left but a letdown.