The giant’s shoulders are enough
for a small piece of a painter.
He’s a bit of life sticking
in the white light.
A bit of mid-life sticking
in his Casual Friday shirt:
pineapples, melons, a crowned rat
that whispers close, close, maybe soon;
Lonely, the painter walks away,
Lonely As I’ve Ever Been.
while the wall is the city’s muse
on the walk to work.
The giant’s hand circles his ring,
he’s still hesitant to exhale
close, close, maybe soon;
neither lives to run, but only one
(Mural: Bezt-“She Never Came” by Etam Cru)
I wish I had a better photo…