“That’s one great wall,” a stranger said
From behind the wheel of his
Small white truck
His sarcasm dripped like gravy at Thanksgiving
“I like it,” I said.
He seemed confused
Maybe because this was the back
Of the HVAC contractor
That his coat proudly proclaimed his employment
“Are you a good photographer?” he asked.
This kind of question I never feel comfortable with
It feels like a set up
Waiting for arrogance or a lack of confidence
So I just shrugged my shoulders
He could not know what I was really thinking;
How art is such a challenge,
And welcomed labor of risk,
How I was seeing beauty in the haggard boards
Seduced by the textures in the plaster, and
Wondering what was on the other side of the make shift barricade
Of course I knew
Conduit, wire, credit card machines
But I preferred to think of the mysteries
Spies, unsavory characters, hidden antiques
“Can I give your dog some turkey?” he asked.
“He’d like that. Thanks,” I said.
Two slices later,
A little banter about the power of pit bulls,
And our conversation was over
With the man in the small white truck
Driving off to see his grandmother
Less a little turkey
And we were off to find other