JEKYLL ISLAND AFTERNOON
There is a siesta for some of us.
A child with a mangled hand throws a stone into the ocean.
I came here to understand painters.
I came here to learn semiotics from the surf.
This is salt in the eye and sand in the ears.
As if preparing the body for the eventual putrefaction.
If I could paint I would paint the world around his hand.
Of course, he would throw a stone at me
and laugh in the sun.