Wednesday, August 12, 2009

The Paint Dries Quietly

The paint dries quietly.
The soundtrack begins on low,
trucks honking; workmen yelling.

Down below two men kiss each other on the street,
whispering good bye.

The sun coming up makes him sleepy.
He flops on the coach,
Pulls a koi-patterned sheet over his head.

A calico enters,
examines the painting with her little black nose,
and leaves a white whisker in the work.