-straight-edged-

it happened years ago.

so long ago.

once upon a time ago.
a job to be done,

the Artist is a painter of advertising signs.

signs to buy this thing and eat over here.

drive this way and put your dough

in our capable hands.
we’ll treat you right,

like a neighbor and friend,

we’re hear for you open nights ‘till 9.

the friendly bank.

the laughing bank.

don’t let us down.

we’re the Pancake House with whipped-

cream n’ strawberries poured all over ‘em,

serving all your route 6
pancake needs for fifteen years. sign says:
we're China Seas, plenty msg to fill you up.

eat at Zeaks, but the smell

of counter Joe’s pits’ll drive you to the street,

and it’s out on the street where the sign-painter

bolts ‘em up,— high over his head for all to see.

drive by and see the the signs the Artist paints,

he’s painted them for all to see.

colored, global positioning devices locked on the land,

give directions for everyone

to get to everyplace he paints on the signs,

bolting them high above his head

with strength and effort to send the people
happily on their way.

but the pretty young women look-up at his signs,

signs with big letters and small ones too,

the truth and not so much the truth,

and the pretty young women

gather at the ladder, the message be damned,

look-up at his signs, and he flexes his muscles
at just the right time,

the way all the working sign-painters did,

the same way the Artist has done this day.

                                                11/8/11