We made a saint out of Nicolas
when we lost him.
We lost him
somewhere down Baja-way.
He was spinning his yarns there,
making magic in the desert,
a peyote fox,
then vanished
into thin air.
The last time we saw him
he was dancing circular
into the pitch,
waving his arms madly,
wildly speaking
in an ancient tongue.
Some of us believe
the mother ship came back.
I don't.
I think he turned feral
and continues
to cavort
on
the sabbath eves.