Aesthetic Theft

the signs that mock me as I go

our broken skylight, your dilated eyes 

scribbled poems on the inside of cardboard boxes 

a shared language.

a tenderness characteristic of scarcity 

I see the world through your lens 

your eyes and the promise of memory 

at the expense of intimacy 

whatever colors you may have in your mind 

shades of rose, cadmium, and moss 

colors that seem to generate light 

in that world of yours of black and white 

a redefinition of artistry 

your lens: a tortured gradient 

a worshiper to light 

to the possibility of the unseen 

misunderstood. 

I, your canvas 

your eyes to remind you of color, of movement 

one  ticket between two 

one perspective for two imaginations’

peering through one of the museum’s trapezoidal windows 

“one day we’ll go in together and the work will be ours” 

for now, I gaze down at you

I, with the promise of being your eyes 

You, with the promise of being my soul 

leaning against the stone exterior, 

next time, you’ll be my eyes

a partnership: aesthetic theft.