Rodolfo

so i just disappeared
i took off to vegas in a yellow pair of aviators
i changed my name to rodolfo
i grew out my mustache
and i disappeared into a cloud of cigarette smoke
and bottom shelf tequila

sitting fat
at some slot machine
i chugged at the handle
like a trucker on the horn
and i watched my play money disappear

rodolfo
king of the strip they’d call me
in the gutter
asking for change

rodolfo
with a pregnant girlfriend in reno

rodolfo
flipping a chip in his knuckles

and meanwhile in denver
they missed me

my friends
my family

they slapped my face on the sides of milk cartons
until the milk went bad
and then they held a vigil for me at cheesman park
just a hundred or so candles

he just disappeared
they said
swallowed up by some sort of sinkhole

and they talked about my poems for a minute or two
said how i changed them
how i influenced their lives
but they were still alive
and they cared
but there were bills to be paid
weekends to be planned
life just keeps on without you

meanwhile rodolfo was in deep with some cardsharks
a few bad bets
and now he’s being thrown around some back room in old vegas

my mustache swallowing my entire upper lip

you can reinvent yourself
i prayed into the rearview mirror
down highway i-15
into the mouth of vegas

you can be whoever you want

and then i, rodolfo,
probably said some more stupid things
and they hit me over the head with a hammer
they buried me in the desert
and no one came looking because i never existed

i don’t know where i’m going
but i like my name
brice
it’s got a nice sound to it i think

and the vigil might have been small
but a hundred candles or so
beats being nameless in a desert
pouring your heart out
into a big gulp with a hole in the side

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Author: brice maiurro

Denver poet. I like spaghettios.

2 thoughts on “Rodolfo”

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