i keep swinging back and forth
between two points drawn in the sand
that look like abstract faces
waking up for the first time
paint by numbers,
then forget where the numbers go,
and start painting wildly,
or not at all,
maybe call it abstract,
thoughtful, pensive, or some other such
cerebral title to make it seem
like it was all intentional,
then walk away,
maybe sell it, maybe don’t,
but never think about that one piece of artwork
you have hanging or laying away
some far off place,
in the back of the closet,
or up front in some schmuck’s living room,
no matter where the painting hangs,
it can’t seem to count,
since the numbers fled away
forgotten ideas in a book
look the same when they’re not memorized,
though i suppose they’re not as catchy,
but they can still be quite kitschy,
though only if those ideas are caught
Fred Aiken Writing 