Longtime Benito, the fever dream catcher,
\nkept in his kitchen a cauldron of brine.
\nThus fish were entertained periodically
\nand from their bones he built himself a shrine.
\nForced to the sidelines by random rag pickers,
\nhe felt it his right to get more playing time.
\nHis vision was keen but his sense of smell thwarted.
\nHe’d play for a quarter but not for a dime.
\nHis house was of brick and his bed was of feathers,
\ndonated by birds who were passing in flight.
\nHe wrapped his possessions in camouflage tethers
\nand felt that the war in his head was all right.
\nBut one day Benito crossed over the river.
\nHe did not come back for a moonful of days.
\nHis door was unlocked and he saw with a shiver
\nhis dear lair had been taken over by strays.
\nThese wild dogs and thin cats were immune to reason.
\nThey would not be swayed by his logic or threats.
\nAnd so he deemed this time his space sharing season,
\naccepting this outright invasion of pets.
\nThe last anyone saw of Longtime Benito,
\nhe carried on his back a pack of his goods.
\nHe sat at the bar nursing one last mojito,
\nthen silently walked off and into the woods.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"