Vincent



 

Vincent

(In memory of Mark Flaum)

 

On my walls

were sunflowers

fields with haybundled clouds

star blessed skies

available as sustenance

for teenaged angst

 

There was a matador and bull

On her wall

a gift I brought her

a romantic dream

dispelled in the ruedo

with the spilling of blood

 

Driving through Arles

magic all around us

Jeannette’s mouth agape

with the wonder of fairyland

I was surprised

you also showed up old friend

unbidden  

 

I saw you slouched

at the yellow café

and again at the bridge

your red beard

turning grey

your sad eyes turning towards me slowly

 

from the hospital window

I could see you smile

and wave

while I walked hand in hand with Jeannette

drunk with joy

 

that was Arles then

to her the corrida

had none of Hemingway’s grandeur

was an abattoir

gone public

  

she saw too much red in the ring

too little yellow

much like you did old friend

at the end

everywhere black and red

that fateful night

 

that starless starless night
 
 
 
Albert Katz

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