A Brautigan Heaven

I had a dream
Last night
That there was this room
Filled with Brautigans
Typing out novels
That eased through a slot
In front of the desk that
Each Brautigan sat at.

I picked up one and
It was filled with
All the anger and
Loving grace I missed
So sorely after reading
All his shit back
In the old days.

I teach English at night sometimes.
I don�t do it very well.
I�m probably about 40%
As good as other English teachers.

I can�t teach them to write
But I make them read novels.

They love Anne Tyler.
They even like Bukowski.

When they read Brautigan
And I try to explain why
I love him so dearly
They all look at me
Like cattle might look
At a farmer doing cartwheels
In a cornfield.

All except this one girl
Who has three holes
In her ears and
A belly button ring
That looks like an
Erotic paper clip
Holding her little body
Together.

She shows me her panties
Once every other week.

She is half my age.
She said she liked Brautigan.

I give her my only copy
Of Sombrero Fallout
And I never see her again.

That�s okay.


I had a dream
Where this room full
Of Brautigans
Is supplying me
With an endless supply
Of Brautigan novels.

One of them is about
This girl who is curled up
In just her panties
Reading Sombrero Fallout.

I am asleep beside her.

When I wake up I will yawn
And pick another Brautigan
Off the stack

Eternally.