Sacred Geometry

Monday, February 3, 2020

 Not too long ago

I walked the halls of an art museum.
The patrons quietly shuffled
from painting to sculpture to artifact
when suddenly,
clear and brilliant as the shallow pool
that children tossed their wish pennies into, 
a woman behind me said,
"The circle painting gets
really f**king old
especially by the time
you turn 51 years old."

I laughed, shocked at her vulgar honesty,
observing the way it humbled me,
observing the way it pleased me
to be human
together.

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