afternoon stroll
afternoon stroll
I walked into a landscape painting made of chlorophyll
in eleven variations, and there were no adolescent girls
around suffering from sclerosis, but did see a pale face
in a car driving by, cattle string incomprehensively at
the painting
the heaven was pale blue with hasty brush strokes
of fondly white painted looking like the top crest of
waves gone astray, petrified by loneliness
Rocks too, were green as decaying teeth and sheep
shorn looking ridicules and ashen among verdant
olive trees
As the sun was about to hibernate and night cast
shadows on the silent stage, colors evaporated
I thought of Saddam Hussein, already forgotten
had a daughter who loved him, saw him as tragic
a figure fighting the occupiers
This teaches us one needs not to be saint to be
loved
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