Vampire
This morning I moonwalk
from my apartment
where a few stars hang out,
the white man blinks at me
from the crosswalk.
I gather my breath
from the holy ghost caffeine
ready for my coffee
drip-drip of blood-letting.
I’m ready to go to work.
Thermos in my hand
still emerging from the cobwebs
of last night’s rush.
Sizing up the neck of my next
victim, tiny dots of red appear
on my overcoat, a camel hair
as I embrace the newly dead.
—Michael Magee