posted July 13, 2004 09:36 PM              

Here you go:
Halogen

The traffic is lighter
At 11 PM
He can set his easel
Out into the roadway.
He picks his brushes
With the care of a warden.
He captures an image
That disappears in the day.

When did he get bored
With the way things looked
awake?
Oblivious to all the others
Who passed by in daylight.

What is in his cupboard?
When does the man sleep?
Does he have a wife?
Does she wonder why
he paints at night?

His paint box contains
Three yellows
And fourteen shades
Of black
One day he hopes
To branch out
To sketching wildfires
and thunderstorms.

But for now
He holds forth
In the shadow
Of the Holiday Inn

Where he notices
the shadows act strangely
When the paint is applied
By halogen.

He knows
the traffic is lighter
At 11 PM.

posted July 15, 2004 05:36 PM              

Natasha

posted July 15, 2004 08:27 PM              

anakhita