SEEKING MINIATURES
Counterspace made of marble.
Hard enough to break you teeth,
goes without saying. On the
wall, there's a Flemish painting
of some woman holding an urn,
or maybe it's a pitcher. A picture
of a pitcher. Why bother? And I
wonder how she earned the urn?
There's always someone around,
it seems, who'd rather drag me
back, into the past, than accept
me as today : 'Your old buddies,
they ask for you. Why don't you
stop by some day and have a few
beers. Oh everyone would love
to see you there....'
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