You worry the prime real estate
speckled with persons of the cloth
their jurisdictions incidental
the years of sidebars indifferent.
(Why are they here, anyway?)
There's little to do aside from the obvious.
Yes, I suppose, you could unfurl
the colored parachute
and make do with the droppings
but the tug on your sleeve
keeps reminding you that there's more to it,
more than the Hallmarkian images
would suggest.
But that too has patiently eluded you.
You could take to the swings
and begin scribbling
on the electronic blank pages
floating down, on cue, from wherever.
But would that be enough? Really?
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| Joan Allen and Jeremy Irons in Georgia O'Keefe (2009) |