March

Some boast a push broom
Some a rusty wire brush
There are those who flaunt the floppy ears of a cocker spaniel
Side by side with those who take pride in a thinned smudge
Few since the forties have opted for the toothbrush
Though I suppose it'd still be kosher with a bowler top hat and some slapstick
The twirly Captain J. Hook look requires an abundance of earwax and upkeep
But it's worth the work.
Solidarity, my brother.
Tis the season.

Drawn

A sketch of me lays open on his desk.
my face staring back.

he is in the middle of other projects.
he told me about this sunset he sketched out the other day;
he said it was one of those pieces you couldn't help but smile at
even though you'd made it yourself.

he said "sunsets are beautiful,
you can capture those colors a million times,
twist them on the canvass, coax them like prodding coals with a stick
and they will never stop burning"

His sunsets show the way things should be.
His sketch of me as well, it's me, but it's a little bit more y'know?
it's potential: dreamt, breathed and drawn

and I guess that's why I keep climbing the steps to his studio.
to see how things should be.
to see what my face looks like
staring back