Renaissance Man by David Spicer

The grapevine offers you this
toothpick, so savor it: Satan,
though I’m a foundling, I’m no
Faust who seeks your blessing.
No need to anoint me a hero
for orphans to emulate. I won’t
disappoint you, but I’m no Judas
goat. Just shower me with the gift
of a juggler’s calypso beat,
and I’ll wrangle an invitation
to American Bandstand. No need
to coach—I’ve been a cadet
or a peon all my life. I can explain:
Skinning my elbows on sidewalks,
tennis courts, and too much
preparation, I find no manuals
necessary: I’ve written
instructions for streamlined
roller skates. When I succeed in life,
I’ll send you a ticket to my sold-out
concerts, a breeze descending
from the heavens, and immunity
from measles when it rains.
Then I’ll announce the cure:
suck a lozenge, my minions,
a holy gift without a care
in the wind as I whistle us to bliss.

David Spicer

David Spicer has had poems in Chiron Review, Alcatraz, Gargoyle, Ploughshares, The American Poetry Review, and elsewhere. The author of Everybody Has a Story and four chapbooks, he’s the former editor of raccoon, Outlaw, and Ion Books. He is scheduled to have From the Limbs of a Pear Tree, (Flutter Press) released in the Fall of 2017.

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