Struck
Color-Blind Tomorrow,
he would embark on a film about Matisse
most people would miss in limited release
yet discovered, perhaps, one wet April night
scrolling through titles, my fancy in flight
turning up once again one Thursday in June
wandering through galleries humming a tune
lost in “The Window”, I lose track of all time
gone in my daydream you’ve left me behind
to pace the four corners of that flat green room
circle the plant stand by the light of the moon
wait for you there on that crazy quilt rug
embark on my own film, pine for your hugs.
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