I met Christopher Columbus, as he was searching for a new way.
And He found it.
A very new way to a very old place.
Following in Sinbad’s musty tread water- He floats His boat from the theater- musket in hand- all the way down to a farm in Nantucket- where He can work and live in a placid commune and not be bothered with Spanish trade.
He can spend His nights alone and in the rain for all he cares- getting His beard wet, because He is Free! God damn it!
He can secretly take advantage of weaker peoples-
And He can unknowingly get taken advantage of himself!
He’ll meet nice women that will stroke and stir His rounding belly-
And if these women have children, they’ll poke his face and pull his slacks- all with tiny fingers. And instead of scorning the children (He must not, for he’s finally making headway with their mother!) He will be polite- but firm, but still very much annoyed.
He’ll travel on a train and think of our meeting-
wondering if I was right about the life that was not meant for Him.
He’ll wonder if after all, He has become unhappy and thus imprisoned by His own gloom.
Someone will pipe into his car an old Charles Mingus recording of Epitaph or a bootleg of Fables and he’ll slump down in his chair.
When his stop comes, he might re-consider his destiny and stay on the train in order to finish listening to the record (for it might contain some hidden message in the melody).
And then he might fall asleep, lulled by the,
“thum, thum, sip-um, sipa-um, bum, whaaa-ee-O!”
And maybe he’ll dream about crickets!