Rocket Fantastic [excerpt]

It's ridiculous what fame

can buy you. Not the beast

but the tiny, frightened

man who brings him

in a cage from Alhambra,

who stands in the doorway

as the three girls finish,

get off the bed and walk down

to the pool, giggling as they pass.

The Bandleader borrowed

a tiger because we saw it

in a reel the studio sent over,

some movie about a prince

that played against the wall

of the upstairs bedroom.

Sometimes a girl would jump

into the pool and the waves

shimmered up. In the movie

the prince brings the tiger

to the castle and it rules

alongside him, "That's not

believable," the Bandleader

said and then, "Don't stop."

And then, "Ah. Right there."

The prince would place his hand

on the tiger's head and grab

his hair in his fist and move

it around. I liked to watch

him start to want things, a wetness

forming in his mind. There were

three girls squealing in the pool

and the waves came up to us

as ripples of light that I passed

my fingers through, "You're blue

with gold stripes," the Bandleader

said, looking up at me

but imagining the tiger beside him

already, before he even

reached for the phone.