the portraitist

January 2, 2013 § 6 Comments

if only I could
render comprehensible
the rapid theater
of his rantings
or when silent,
his pantomime,
maybe I could
fit another
piece into its
proper place

someone had mentioned
that he used to paint,
portraits mostly –
capturing the images of
the well heeled children
of well heeled parents
to show off to their
well heeled friends
of convenience

that is all I know
on this, just
another Monday morning,
in which
he remained a mystery

a mind trapped genius
heading for the strip
of lawn between the
expressway on ramp
and the bus depot

he seemed to swim
through crowds
of distracted
his arms a flurry of wild circles
a bedraggled
the art of misdirection

and then
in a puff of smoke
only he could see
he disappeared as
doves took flight
over the audience
and the curtain
dropped for another day

(c) 2013 Fred Whitehead


§ 6 Responses to the portraitist

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