Armchair Thoughts

Ink on Typewriter Paper, August 25, ‘26. Gift of the artist.

What if the hero

is actually the ancient poet

who burned through family money

searching

for the deepest abstraction

of the outermost most star?

Yes, he studied at the Sorbonne

and drove a motorcycle,

a rich boy

with long red hair.

A grown man now, he owns an old boat

and loves to sail

alone

in the calm Aegean evening,

older now at last

to be young again.