the rix mix

I am not a cruel or indifferent person. I'm supposed to help people, but now I can't help anyone. My needs are so minimal as to be laughable: a place to keep me & my stuff, food, meds, a few cheap little cigars. If I had storage for my stuff, I'd need even less. With essentials taken care of, the world in return gets a smart, affable poet riding an old bicycle around town, a decent human being named "Rixon" who isn't afraid of ghosts, governments or granite gods; who listens to cranky old geezers, likes kids on skateboards, chats with school crossing guards, drops tips in the cup at Dunkin' Donuts, & feeds stray cats. I expect to be seen as a fool by some people - poets are used to it - although our real gift is for maintaining a translucent camouflage. Ah, life should be lovelier than it is.