you played a cello on the fire escape
while i painted on the rooftop
our best poems were written on the listless shades
the narrow daybed held our best dreams at night
..you taught me never to discuss art
for art to be remarkable, you said
it first must learn to suffer,
its own quiet company
and you introduced me to the fishermen
those who never caught a thing
you said, throw back the catch
and paint the canvas over
until like Jonas, your vision is swallowed whole
and i turned and looked over my shoulder
hoping again you would be there
but you left with your cello long ago
and boarded the boat with the fisherman
you sit in the pilot house
and, as you did with me
you look patiently over his shoulder
...while he plunders the mistaken depths
of his soul.
