2095. WHEN BROWN TURNS TO BLACK

WHEN BROWN
TURNS TO BLACK
Fickle moments that arrive entire,
at once, as altogether. I stand back -
vaguely, and just for the moment - to
look at a Pollock. Number 1, 1950, to be
precise, later re-named as 'Lavender Mist'.
It's the one Vogue magazine ran with in
March '51 for their trendy fashion shoot.
What a different world it must have been.
Lightning streaks, and grease marks, new
jet planes enticing the sky, fears of great
Red Commies everywhere, and why?

-
And now, the red dawn says it's too late

to just sit back and draw lightning and

mushrooms high in the sky. Jets pierce

the distance, radar drones level the field.

I hide behind cameras that are hiding from

me. What a dishevelled mess we've become.

-

Small words and small talk, liars and geeks,

fat muscles and steamy malcontents, coast

to coast exchanging notes. Look at that old

picture, the photo right there. I'd trade it

for one peek of what you really are.