the vernissage of clouds is never private

10 May

you make a universe from paper clips.
just you and your coffee,
mesmerized by human plumbing,
happy to be a member of a planet where
airplanes spawn from flying dinosaurs and
catheters empty bladders and
entertain kids as spit ball machines.
i was with you for 90 minutes.
you were still there 4 hours later;
i saw you in the McDonalds window.
i saw kids and adults holding your sketches in the parking lot.

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