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Columbo in San Cristóbal

People he told the truth

to didn’t trust him

brained by a frying pan

& “just woke up there”

Without a tale to tell to death

or nail to hang his hat on—

thus we honor Amerigo

Merry-go-round to the right

of the roadside shrine

to the saint of dead bugs

Later, sitting collected in study

one among many little clay animals

I’ve got a history and a notebook

Coffee on the table

the old whistling chess master

calls “¡a la derecha!” on his way out.