Perfect charmed hands swirling
with a big thick brush, leave
the canvas momentarily for a dab
of dark blue, purple and this look in
your eyes. I would whisper soft
noises but it might interrupt your
inventive urge, all these dark
blues and purples left like a scar
remembering all the times you wanted
to escape. Life does this to you,
makes you not remember the better
days you had in some alleyway being
the stray cat that you were driving
home in your broken sports car with
the speed of light. One large sunflower
kept protected in the closed grip of
your hand, the other pressing wild ink
caricatures into the steering wheel,
still looking for a way out.