Billy Mullins trudged into Meng’s br having just returned br from four months in a Florida jail, br possession of marijuana br without intent to sell. br “Bernstein, ” he said seriously br “stay out of the State of Florida.” br “I intend to.” br Then he lowered his voice br to an almost inaudible whisper, br “Almost became a Sissy Mary br but took to writing br and that saved me.” br “You don’t say, ” said Treasure br now interested in the conversation. br A big guy says to me I got cute eyes br and right away I knew what he wanted br but a bigger guy says to join br his poetry club and I won’t have no trouble. br And that’s what I did, and I didn’t br have no trouble.” br “Damn, Billy, ” said Treasure, br “I like the way you talk.” br “Big guy’s name was Larry Littlejohn, br Little for short br and he called his group br the Fortune Cookie School of Poesy.” br Treasure handed the Thunderbird br to Larry who swallowed, then smiled br saying, “All the poems hadda br give the meaning of life br everything else was fluff, Little’s word, br and so I scribbled away br day after day, time going, br days crossed off, and don’t you know br I got into it, especially Little’s br urging, to go deeper, deeper, br but soon poetry shifted to Biography about this guy.” br ”You liked him? ” asked Treasure. br “First man I ever met with the Big Three: br courage, compassion, panoramic awareness, br the last one came to me yesterday br from Bernstein’s Tibetan rap.” br “Tibet! ” exclaimed Treasure br staring at me, smiling, then again: “Tibet” br but softer now, almost trancelike br as she whispered, “Panoramic awareness. br A thousand eyes, each twirling turning br seeking searching br all worlds inner outer br no escape from vision.