Sketch for an artist

This is the time of no surprises
In the town of broken-hearted artists.
Let your soul flow down the street
And slip on contours to the sea
Then paint a face yourself across a spilling scene

Your body is white
And the blanket is warm
I drink milk in the morning sun
Your scene was always in the sun-
A girl’s face stretched in light
Barely a line; a sketch of life
Not really you at all
More an old face. Still. In a mirror

“Will you paint me?”
“I’ll show you as I see,” you say
“Exposed in a milky shade of day.
Because I know too much of you
And now is the time of no surprises.
Spill yourself and flow downstream.”