I Am of Two Minds Like Old Lovers in an Urban Park

I can't just sit here all day and write down images.

Say who cares about the heavy burden a spirea bush has when it's most laden with the white clusters of flowers. The low ones could be rabbit tails.

Well I care, it is the form of the world that my body enters. I also care about the temperature of water in the pool and my heft within the wriggling hexagons of light.

Ah, what do you know -- you think images are money enough in the marketplace of art.

I think art is the coin of the realm of thought -- though there is much profit in cheap art.

You said it. I bought a greeting card the other day.

What time is it?

It's time to get another gimmick.

Oh, like the gimmick of describing the world as if you were a giant touching all the concretes in a small town. The fine sensations of dust are good.

I could spend a lot of time cataloging the browns: rust, sand, wheat, hay.

Don't forget the gimmick of being a ghost and sliding around town like a shadow -- fondle this fondle that.

You're just jealous.

You bet I am -- if you were a different kind of person than me I wouldn't care.

So you do care.

Yes, I care. Let's think of something good together.

Copyright Louise Robertson