She was beautiful
when she was younger
hopping along like a
wagtail somewhere on a garden fence
sometimes I think
I should have made a
major pass at her
I reckon I had a
good chance of ending up being her boyfriend
and now that she’s
in her fifties
she’s even prettier
but I know I
wouldn’t have made it with her
she ended up
becoming a real artistic kind of person
had a chic to her
that belonged somewhere
in a fine art
gallery in Florence
or Venice
not in my broken
part of the world
yet, I still can’t
keep my eyes off her
despite knowing I
wouldn’t have made it with her
and she floats along
like a free and shapeless rainbow
hair standing in a million
directions
standing there on
the sidewalk
gazing out over
Algoa Bay
in front of her
easel and canvas
painting swirling
colourful patterns
seeing odd things in
the waves
and talking about
breaking the light
then bringing it all
back together again
and she paints it
all in longs strokes
giving it all weird
titles
“Strawberries glowing
in the winter heat”
“Love is the tall mesmerized
grass”
and who knows what
else
and she finds it all
gazing out over the
ocean
I could never figure
out
how the names were
applicable
to the paintings
I’d stand there and
look real long and hard at them
and all I would see
is long swirling lines and strokes
splatters an blobs
everywhere
smudges and chaos
and no strawberries
no lovers or grass
and I couldn’t
figure out
where the hell all
those things were
out there on the sea
but it all worked
out fine for her
and she was selling
some of those paintings
with their weird
titles
for a pretty penny
and more importantly
she has remained as
friendly as always
taking the time to stand
still and to talk to people
who came around
watching her paint
at peace with the
world
no hard feelings
or grudges
no matter who did
what to her
or said what about
her
or what came her way
yeah, she sure is a
decent and pretty lady
but I know I wouldn’t
have made it with her
especially because
she gave everything in her apartment
personalized names
the kettle she calls
Bobby
the toaster she calls
Mickey
and her cat she calls
Moon
and she talks to
them all day long
“Bobby is bubbling”
“Mickey just burned
the toast”
“Moon just crapped
in the shower”
I don’t think I
would have made it with her
but she sure is
pretty…
Conrad Kruger van
den Bergh (Copyright, 2016)
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