song are they singing?
I follow
the short man with the black beret
out of the gallery. He reminds me
of me as I keep
walking. The artist
who drew one single naked woman into
the inner frame of every cartoon.
Holding our short, clear glasses of
white wine, we move from room to room,
missing the friends that are more than
eleven thousand miles away,
walking
drawing with the pictures of what
is right in front of us. one two three.
one two three
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