Romeo is Bleeding
[Response to an exercise compliments of Katie Kurtz: write a poem using these elements, 1) parking-lot Portuguese, 2) Fire on the Mountain by the Grateful Dead, 3) Independence Mall on Independence Boulevard in Wilmington, North Carolina, 4) something about spirituality.]

Russell sat in his usual spot for
the Sunday rush, shaking his can,
which he had carefully filled with
a few coins that morning, trying
as hard as he could to look like
a blind man. He prayed to whatever
force he believed in at that moment
that this day might bring bounty.
The first two who
made their way for the front door
that morning were Romeo and Alfred.
Romeo was bleeding hard from a bullet
hole in his chest. "Haga la lucha,"
he rasped. "No," Alfred countered.
"We're here for bandages. You can
smoke later." As they passed
through the front door, they noticed
Russell and ignored him.
"Have a nice day," said Russell.
He could smell the blood and
the gunpowder. The three saw
each other daily and so had that
awkward sort of familiarity
that begging engenders. Just then,
a pair of college kids appeared.
"It was her," the first said,
"as sure as we're standing here
together on a Sunday in May."
"How can you be sure?" the second
replied. "Look, I'd know the face
of my own mother, don't you think."
"But why there? I mean
Independence Mall on Independence
Boulevard? In Wilmington? It's like
your subconscious is speaking to you
through some kind of Tom-Wolfe book
or John-Sayles movie or something."
They too were regulars and they too
ignored Russell.
"Have a nice day," Russell said.
Two hippies back from a Dead show
came scurrying up in search of
lighters. "No, I'm telling you,
man, it was Scarlet Touch Fire."
"They did not play Fire on the
Mountain last night. I'd remember."
"No you wouldn't. You couldn't even
remember your own name last night."
"My, ah, my name." "You fuck up!"
"It's Tim," Russell said.
The two looked down at Russell,
huddled there with his bags and
his dog, shaking his can. "Spare
some change?"
"No, I'm gonna do more than that.
I'm gonna make your week."
Tim reached in his pocket for
the hundred-dollar bill he had
been given for a sheet of acid
the night before. Amid the protests
of his friend, he did make Russell's
week. Russell asked why and Tim said,
"You had my name when I didn't.
You must know me and I've never
seen you before. That's not right.
Just take the money man. I promise
I'll never ignore you again."
Russell rose and began to gather
his things. "Off to get some food?"
Tim asked. Russell smiled.
"I tell you what: if all I have to do
is remember folks' names, I'll be
a millionaire by the end of the week.
I see myself playing the part of an
all-knowing angel, the Robin Hood
of angels. I'll separate the bankers
I know by name from their money.
Then it's on to the investment brokers.
Gonna be a busy day. Thanks for the tip."
Romeo and Alfred and the college kids
were just leaving. They had to stand
in the doorway with Tim and his friend
as Russell fully collected himself and
walked off into the day, never
to be seen again.

(2008)