could be Ben Martinez is in the hoosegow

he’s unresponsive.

the screen’s straight-lining.

could be he’s enjoying a self-

imposed isolation, scheming

a new Picasso situation.

could be the infatuation’s

grown too dear and moved

too close to the edge.

why couldn’t Martinez

leave the old Spaniard to himself?

isn’t that where the dead belong?

no. not for Martinez.

he’s got a rare sort of penmanship.

his tinfoil’s the best I’ve seen.

could be he’s roaming the Italian landscape

as we wait his return when the scent

of the pane is pulled from the oven.