Train Poem #12

Shit. If I had a billion dollars,

I would put myself in a glass

bottle and roll myself down a hill.

I would have it made from special

sands, to protect me from bouncing

and scratching, from uv light and

gunfire. People would come to study

me: critics, journalists, academics,

doctors. They would be welcome to

ogle my nude magnificence, but not

to touch. I would capture my authenticity

as a finite being in a mad world. They

might even distill an aperitif from my feet,

as long as I didn’t drown. In my bottle,

I would dance and sing and tell stories

to the crowds in the hope that they, newly

emboldened, would redecorate the world.