I spoke to him today,
not the man but the gallery exibit.
He reminded me of the man on the bus that I never sit next to.
But here he was. In my face. Thinking about his landlord's inablility to fix his plumbing. At least he didn't belch in my face like the boy at the party.Their glassy eyes had the same look. Why do I always confess my inermost termoil to those with glassy eyes. Is it because it cannot hurt them like it does my mother, pastor, lover, and dog.
Talk to chuck close sometime, not the man- he is old-but the gallery piece.