Dali  #116
May 3,  1998

I always imagined my life
to look like
a piece
of Salvador Dali's
artwork

I was the shape that eluded

shadow's soft lines
divide my body's
contour
from the canvas
separating

my skin from your fingertips

You're standing
in front of
"too big" a canvas
We stare together
at the giraffe
ablaze
woman, whose face
blends into a
melting

teapot which
in turn
is my liver
(I realize this now)

You say to me

"I really love his work,
I have a great understanding for it."

I look at you
you are still in the canvas
picking shells in the sand
as I walk away.