Meet Rosamund, a shaggy furred
mammal from an alternate
universe. She’s almost 65 & pink
& when I say pink I don’t mean
Caucasian, hand crocheted baby

bootie pink. I mean straight
inside the tongue of a rescue
dog, wet trumpet, wild
plum. Rosamund gets a $50
kitchenette between Odessa

& Abilene. She is sleeping
late. Understand, she’s a pocketed
biped from the marsupial line. Think
swamp wallaby or long-footed
potoroo. Today she snuggles

under the covers until The View
comes on at 3. Whoopi
Goldberg is asking Helen Mirren how
she maintains her sex
appeal & energy at 74. Inspired,

Rosamund dons herself in a flower
splashed jumpsuit, slips on her rose
colored cowboy boots & by 6:30 she’s
ready to ramble through West Texas
towns  — Sierra Blanca, Valentine,

Van Horn, Balmorhea. Surely
her handy pockets can minister
to the maltreated & have
nots. She wants to be
known for her random

generosity — just call her Rosamud
the Magnificent — but everyone
walks on by her when she stretches
her fuzzy marpusial arms like bat
wings. Below a crescent

moon her raggedy pink
fleece morphs into winning
lottery tickets, high-yielding
scratch-offs & one hidden
Powerball — $376 million. How

can a hot pink marsupial in a jump
suit who means nothing but good
luck, free meals & fresh
biscuits be invisible? She loads
the bed of her pickup with homemade

casseroles, dragon kites & apple
butter & sets up a roadside
card table on Route 90
near Van Horn. The Guadalupe
Mountains sawtooth the sky. Tonight

the cars whiz past as her offerings
dangle & sway. Tomorrow she’ll drive
north & after stuffing fistfuls of silver
dollars in her jacket she’ll try again
somewhere between Odessa & Abilene.