The Artist
California red was everywhere
a feverish light swallowing
all our days as we drove
on the freeway going toward
or farther away from home
until it became a question of who
had the lovely recipe
for this stream flaming
the twilight sides of our lives
who planned these scarlet eyes
to gaze back at us knowing
the rains couldn’t soften or close
them with its wet humming
up and down along the hillsides
then someone on the radio claimed
it’s an artist with no money
he came back to town a month ago
to look for his botanist girl
only she fell in love with someone
else but forgot to tell him
her old lover standing there everyday
on the side of the freeway with cardboard
signs in his paint spattered shoes
and those crazy tattoos
of small broken bones
falling down his naked chest
and his desire to find her find her
find her and tell her he knows
how to love her and copy right nature