AMONG US

what was less then

what was lost

what was found in

in our round table

was mostly future

among the cats and the wine

what we failed was the nurture

we traveled away

from the canvas the studio

we huddled too close

to the answer the obvious

I shed you

I did

for my own self worth

Sacrificed you for me

Still undecided

You touched the bottle

a reprimand to my flight

I understood

too late

too angry to fight

Amsterdam pulled the plug

Amsterdam was the flood

that lifted me over redeeming waters

I was young then and mostly drunk

I was young then

and mostly alone

you tracked how I flew

my singular path

Breakfast in Amsterdam

Breakfast was a drag

And I made a picture

of us in the round

Of us as artists underground

the basement the studio

I have never recovered

your sly criticisms

your tiny canvases of mirth

I am still here

That’s my singular birth

nyc

11.23.17

The Studio on East 85th Street. Early 70s. When we artists were a dedicated group of friends. Nothing lasts forever.