Thursday, November 12, 2020

Art Fair

During teenage summers in July
Each year 
My mother and I 
Would go to the art fair.

We wandered Ann Arbor streets
Full of art
Looking, buying, not much talking
We experimented with detente.

On those days, we found a way
Past the silence
That otherwise sat between us
Where words couldn't go.

Somehow, the art filled in the spaces
Between us
And though we never planned it
We bought twins.

Now a lifetime later
She is gone
But her art and my art
Are together again on my wall.

* * * * *

A poet named Mary Jane, who is also my friend, invited me to write 
a poem a day for eight days in a row. Here I go!

And one more for good measure:

* * * * *

Other stories about my summer visits to street art fairs:

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