David Bowie
came to me
in a great big dream.
I’d just finished talking with Salvador Dali,
he’d been teaching me how to make a million
by signing empty sheets of paper.
He’d left all his stuff
hanging around.
I said
“Mr. Bowie, sorry ‘bout the mess”
He said
“Hey brother, call me Dave”
He threw his guitar into the air
spinning, spinning
it shattered into a hundred stars.
“Look isn’t that beautiful?”
he said.
I had to agree.
I hadn’t seen anything as beautiful
since I’d seen a Sorolla
burning in the middle of Madrid.
We stayed a while,
watching the falling stars
floating to the ground like butterfly wings,
until he caught one
in his open white hand
and passed it to me,
smiling from his eyes.
“Art is nothing more than this”
he said.
Marc lives in Spain, and when he’s not teaching English, he likes drinking tea and thinking about the shadows.
Comments