next time we’ll paint people– bring some magazines along

the watercolor painting i made in the course..

.
“be careful” he says,
“this will puddle in ways we don’t want here”
takes my brush and does some first aid,
it’s the same

classroom i’ve sat as a teen before,
now in a row with 14 women, average age 66,
(which makes me feel really like a school kid)

we’re painting autumn in the form of leek,
pears, pumpkins, quinces (badly bruised with
dark spots on their yellow-greenish skin)

i love the garden smell & not sure how to start it
properly, grab my brush “no wait”
he takes a pencil “make a drawing first,
it’s easier then” “ok” &–

this is my first ever watercolor course
i’m the only new face
“how long have you been painting?”
i ask the white haired lady
with dark button eyes who’s sitting next to me
“forever” she says “fun–”

“yeah” he walks by “let this dry first–
otherwise it all will blur &–”
i wait, stroll around the room to look what others do
“love the colors of your pumpkin”
i say to the fancy dressed, dark haired woman
& she smiles, putting tiny dots across its jagged skin

“maybe a bit more red here?” he suggests
“you’re a friend of Sabine, right?” “yes” i smile
“how did you know?” “she told me you’d come, her son
is in my school class” “way cool” &
he takes one of the paintings, walks up to the front,

“what do you think about the empty space up here?”
we all have different ideas

“don’t leave your brushes standing in the water”
they become like brooms then” MaGic, isn’t it
& i might fly as well on top of one// in a lime green,
spar(c)ling watercolor dot/DotBlurWashDress,
hair curling carefree in the wind–

i pack my bag, wave into the round
the tiny lady with the cat-head earings says
“did you like it? — you’ll be back next week?”
“yeah” i smile

& step out in the dark
where my car blinks crimson clavilux
(awww– thanks for waiting on me–)

as the locks snap open

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for OpenLinkNight at dVerse Poets.. join us at 3pm EST..?