The house we shared
has red walls.
We painted them on a whim
you know
You sing as you paint,
make me giggle,
flicking me with claret red.
Speckles in our hair,
all over really.
From your room
slow sad jazz
meant to seduce, maybe.
I want to stop by unannounced.
I don’t, ever.
Front door swung open,
July night time throbbing
with warm rain and our cat
taps on the screen,
and the empty, empty red living room
glows and hums and
the breeze from the door
lifts pages of words I’ve written,
pages of sketches you’ve made,
forgotten on a shelf, a table
And you.
Black old eyes in a young man’s face
Concentration, focus, you paint
out back, or maybe pace
the studio as you say things
