Intimate Currency Laughter coated ceilings, floor-stacked art sections from New York Times , gold-rimmed glasses lost where used, ( reminder of your depth of sight) - memorabilia-bread-crumbs that trail youthful days. A museum scenario where dialogue still frolics distant parquet footfalls, sotto voce tones murmur passersby . From the edge, navy blazers given shape by doorway attendants. I listen, hear your words give intimate currency in brush strokes of art history, sound of pigment, landscaped phrases pass each other until paint's texture equates with voice, becomes lingering strokes of your lover's hand. Wind chimes near the open window toll shallow tunes, over-ride echoes in the house that once was haven my indrawn breath italics in soliloquy.   © Crane 2000 < Return to Contents