On the Eve of Stopping The World to Get Off
There were blocks, I remember.
Blocks and a myriad of colors laid at our feet
The night we painted the Moulin Rouge.
We were strewn with ladies in wild dresses,
men in top hats
Martinis of every size
Gentlemen of repute and standing
Women of the hall, dancing, legs extended,
Toward that cold Chicago morning we anticipated in only hours.
You and I we painted that hall
Drinks and food and operatic musings took us
Straight into Toulouse’s bosom
And I wondered at the vast landscape of your art
Your sweet intuition as to the world of our play.
Later we painted churches, sidewalks, conversations
Rang in the new year somewhere near Wrigley
And talked of the future
In blues and reds
Amber, Ochre, Grey
Shades of white.
-For Kevin Wall