Coast of Blue

In my blue striped dress

I look like a Russian expat

Obtrusive as a snail

Leeching dye

On the sandstone strolls

Of the French Riviera

My Chinese embroidered worm

Silk purse is empty

But I carry seven canvases

Separated by cardboard pieces

Little children

Nestled in their cubby holes

Here is the

Grey gutter antipasto

Where gasoline rainbows

Reflect counterfeit Grecian azure

And eggless pasta

Water I wandered west for

On the bleeding heels of

The day my hands failed me

Stained walnut and oil paint

The color of lavender

Rapeseed red poppy

And wild olive tree

Lazy from compulsive rendering

Of Mont Sainte-Victoire

On a ritualistic

Plein-air pilgrimage

To summon the ghost

Of Cézanne

By rail to Cannes

I deliver my paintings

To a terra cotta alley dealer

Who deals in tourist fly paper

For black beady eyes

And Sauvignon stained lips

Toward the next postcard town

Where I can wedge Etruscan

Red clay or glaze roosters

Inhale cigar ash

And sip bourguignon gravy

Exchanged for gold leaf cloisonné

I’ll be gone before the sunrise

Turns sea foam

To champagne fizz

Back aboard the coastal train

Where iron bars shudder

Infinite Aphrodite pearls