The Artist
The artist painted my street
cold wet winter denuded the trees
solemnly lining the curb along 90th to the Park
I could have been somewhere on that street
his replica peering down through casement window
resting his wet brushes and palette on a small table
while I walked the rainslicked sidewalk below
our eyes could have met
the spark of recognition uniting a moment
lasting forever
posing the great racking question
renowned artist's eyes pierce the eggshell
catch my hungry eyes
all will be well.

Gerald Zipper