i was the blind man
in the art museum and you were the stranger
who sat down beside me and described
in the most beautiful way
that which i longed to see
and i liked your sweet voice so i moved my hand
toward yours
and you let them touch and we sat there
a work of art before a work of art
your words coming fewer and farther between
until the silence rippled with love
tin hats 
Love and Art – what could be finer…
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It that a way to pick up chicks?
“I’m blind, could you describe these paints to me? Oh, you have a lovely voice. And such a vocabulary…”
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It’s either a metaphor or the dude’s got some serious game.
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Hi A.,
i was the blind man … nothing better than that for an opening line. This reminds me of Rumi and the stone dropped in the quiet pool. Where are we going? Can’t be good, too much distortion out there, except in the moment and I guess that’ll have to do. Rippled silence is the nail in the poem. Anyway, good stuff and less is more. Duke
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