canvas

A peculiar type of walking. no blinking, no breaking, no breathing, no bliss; anti-stroll

no blinking, lest a face that is mine escape before i can meet its eyes,

and almost every face is one of mine.

As I move, I notice the motion by my ear, by my side

too

see heads, held high

or brains held heavy held in heads hung low

see lips, turned down or turned up loud, painted or pursed or slack-

jawed and speaking of slack, I see walks too;

athlete-walks, limping with honor and humble hyperbole

invisible-walks, shoulder, finger and foot facing its consort; hoping for implosion

(but even they can’t hide from me)

runway walks, lusting walks, walks like dealership-display-cars, walks in- and un-

in-terruptible

(listen to speed, to the draw of the hip and arms, the angle of the head, you’ll see

what i mean)

and speaking of pursed, I must mention the clothes

the clothes! colors married and colors that fight

(most of the time, its both)

and speaking of colors, speaking of paint, know that I see you, all of you and with glistening strokes

and stolen colors I want to add every single one of you

to my canvas

and though most of you will come out blurry, because you move so fast and I’m not right

handed,

I can call it what it is: abstract art.