for Gabriel Solis
I see myself sitting with him, eyeing
your “3 Tone Metallic Finish” design
for walls. Vincent rises quickly, sighing,
“He shares my vision of cosmos—divine
light and energy!” I’m glad you’re not here.
I shove him another way: “Looks to be
nuclear winter—aftermath of our
endless wars,” I growl. The great one will see
it up close now, his sunburned nose nearly
touching its depth. He walks its width, his glare
scanning sculpted texture. I can clearly
hear his huffed breath, as if praying for air.
“Worse than earth’s destruction,” he gasps. “It’s ice
and ashes crusting the heart when love dies.”
He backs away. Stares. Murmurs, “Better yet,
could be Venus kissing my self-portrait.”
Roger Armbrust
July 20, 2014
