The Virgin of Pomegranates Hits and misses
Packed together in the car all of us squeezed in like rats not even sardines which would have at least tasted good.
A headache, tired, thirsty, certainly bored, like a rock on the road.
Hits and misses, I wanted to rip out the floor boards, sand them, make a blue door, to enter Paris, drink with Picasso, 2001 Beaujolais Nouveau.
Smash the car windows, melt the glass, with a glass blower, make a violet vase filled with white gardenias, ride on a black Venitian gondola.
Slash the tires, dance with Jack the Ripper in Bloomsbury, London.
Easily ride a horse with Eddy, at the Royal shooting parties with Victoria's cousin the Duke of Cambridge, never ready, never there.
Nude, except for a gold chain, lay on Freud's couch at 19 Berggasse, Vienna, wearing an African mask scented with vanilla.
Otherwise stay in Florence with Botticilli in a yellow robe, white gloves and a rose.
Later, hang in the Uffizi in the Piazza Della Signoria with David as the Virgin of Pomegranates tasting Biscotti and Amaretti embracing in December in the Piazza
