Like anyone serious about their Art
I have craved a hermetically sealed room,
just for ten or twenty years.
And like most I have failed in my quest.
The more determined artist searches out
roccoco caves almost unreachable
and in the weirdest crevices they will
pursue their Art, probably upside-down
and without visible means of support.
If I, as a good friend, could hunt them down
I would find the lock remembers the key
and the meditating spirit in that preposterous position
would be at risk of returning to spoons and soap
and all the rest of it. I could not be so cruel
therefore I'd return alone to bargain after bargain.
Not so the maestro coated in yoghurt and beans
defending galloping alpacas from stray moonbeams.