Sunday, August 15, 2010

Her Socks -

I knew they were her socks when I picked them up

And put them with other things

Into my bag. Two small socks without dislike or suspicion.

She had thrown them off, quickly

To race out across the road

To tell the man

Whose hat had blown off

Where he could find it.

She's like that.

And when she came back

Laughing and breathless

The huge blue sky her whole canvas

She was like an explosion at a jam session

Between Picasso and Van Gogh

And Michelangelo

Teaching Dante

To write poetry

The wind blowing hair across her face

Leaping at me

Like a silver fish from a stream of pure joy

I lifted the camera I had been playing with

And gave thanks.


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