Sleepy Afternoon...3:10 P.M.

The sun's taking a bite
off the chill outside
and I'm in my studio
taking the age off an old toy
the puppies are napping...
one has his head on
the back of the other
like a fur rug they decorate
the corner of this room
"Nutty buddy and Nickel"...
my faithful dogs and
two of my favorite things
back when I was a wee lad
and the ice cream man came
with lilting musical alerts
to his frosty presence
on an sultry August day
plates disguised as
Styrofoam palettes
dot my workspace
brushes like punk rockers
with Mohawks stand
ever so stiffly
in a contained environment
till they can lash back
graffiti style
on the next canvas
that crosses their
tempera-mental space
red paint swirls in a
small tornado of color converting
clear water in an old mayonnaise jar
to a scarlet reservoir
a painting freshly done
shows me a place commissioned
that I've never visited
but have captured forever on french paper
work sits all around me awaiting
the transformation of an idea
into the reality of a buyer's smile
and some legitimate cash
thus my poem ends as the paint dries
and the sealer faces applications
and this sleepy afternoon heads towards
the next step in an unfinished work

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