Figures sprawl around the fountain, stretching out
Like cracks across gray stones,
Keeping their reflections out of the water, they avoid the spray
While covering up the choreographed babbling
With chatter and musical interludes bending around the curve
Everyone here dreams they are in a masterpiece,
Some are sculptures-in-waiting
Ready for marble to encase them or swallow a stream of bronze
To preserve every sinew and curve
That shines under the sun rising between the skyscrapers
Others pose, in expectations of portraiture,
Lotion and sweat provide a dress rehearsal for canvas and oils,
The subjects clutch guitars and pets,
And put designer boots and bags on display
Should a sympathetic brush just happen to come along
No masterpiece myself, and too busy to be a still life,
The landscape briefly reduces me
To a flicker of red vibrating in between the green swirls of grass,
My splotch, a momentary cameo
Carried along by the songs of strangers to a writing place
Ben Nardolilli is a MFA candidate at Long Island University. His work has appeared in Perigee Magazine, Door Is a Jar, The Delmarva Review, Red Fez, The Oklahoma Review, Quail Bell Magazine, and Slab. Follow his publishing journey at mirrorsponge.blogspot.com.
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