In the second month of my 64th year,
I awakened in an all but abandoned
strip shopping center
where a scrawny hound
limped up and growled
mouth-foaming, rabid.
Suddenly, a screech — an owl?
The hound turned around,
so I stepped away leaden-legged, slowly
away, inching straight ahead
with great effort, like in a nightmare,
petrified with dread.
Looking up, I noticed the car,
a cab, parked in the shadow
of a dumpster. “Sir! –“
“Shhhh, chill, thyself,” the driver said, “whoa.”
“Let me introduce myself.
I’m pretty sure you know
“The name Catullus. I’m here to help,
to be your guide,
but sushssssssssh, you whelp,
“you’ll awaken the dead
with that loud mouth.
C’mon, man, don’t be scared,
“Hop in. We’ll head south,
tour the hellscape,
the land of the uncouth.”
Click here for Canto 2.
