Bob Lucky

Matador

He lived and worked in the thrall of his dream—to be a matador—but his first professional fight was his last as bullfighting was banned in his country, the last place where it had been legal. He later found a job as a traffic conductor at a busy intersection in the city. It wasn’t bullfighting, but he brought a dignity to the job commuters couldn’t ignore. He wore a uniform—a jacket with epaulettes, a yellow vest, and white gloves. He also had a whistle and a nightstick painted red that he wielded like a muleta to indicate directions and intimidate drivers who felt the rules didn’t apply to them. When he died, his dream died with him and the traffic kept flowing.

on the cave wall
ochre handprints
surround an aurochs—
at the root of every dream
the hunter worships his prey

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About the Author

Bob Lucky is the author most recently of My Thology: Not Always True But Always Truth (Cyberwit, 2019) and the chapbook Conversation Starters in a Language No One Speaks (SurVision Books, 2018), which was a winner of the James Tate Poetry Prize in 2018. Lucky lives in Portugal, where he is working his way through all the regional cheeses and wines.