Wrinkled $5.00 Whore

It was sitting there as I drove ...in
the same place where the infuriating
blank canvas resisted all attempts to join
its brethren

.......as they waited for inspiration
.......beside dusty tubes of paint
.......giving no complaint for their disuse

but it continued to defy
and lay there
taunting its white skin bare to eye
screaming ...use me

No more of your sass

Short work to drive to the little park
..........shoehorned beside the bypass
..........travelers rest
..........for all those that passed by
..........and did not blink

an inspired gift by the city fathers
..........who built
..........a small stone bridge there
perhaps in guilt

for the great stone bridge lost
.........collapsed in the river
.........victim of cost
and ignorance of the future

An ancient #2
...........hidden long before
...........in the side flap of car door
sharpened with an old Case

then honed
...........against one of the old
...........limestone bridge blocks
...........scattered around the new child
...........like so many rescued tombstones
to a point

that became Nano-sand
as I began to sketch bridge, trees, water
working the graphite with breath and hand
.....perfect imperfect representation
.....of colorless pastel light and shadow
.....that the canvas spurned
fickle bitch

then, a voice from behind
'That's not bad'

Self-serving artist turned
an automatic thanks became
'It seems it's missing something'

... when the canvas begged
... to have the face
... pressed to its unsatisfied skin

I looked into eyes that
seemed to be missing something also

Pulling a wrinkled $5.00 bill
.............last in the pocket
placing it in her hand
'will you sit for me?'
wasting no time for argument

I drew her
unprotesting
.....to the bare sunny patch
.....beside the water
.....before the bridge
where she was framed
and illuminated
by the warm caress of the sun

The canvas sighed
as she tucked the bill into jeans
then drank from water bottle
and pleasant scene
..................drowsing
in the gurgle of man-made stream

Laving canvas with carbon tongue
time became of no matter
..........until sun dipped
..........below tallest branches
..........waking her from dreams
..........with shadowed splatters
of reality

The road called her
..........back to uncompleted journey
..........away to unknown tasks
but she hesitated
......searching my eyes
......before asking a low question

'Would you like to slip behind the bushes
and let me hold you for a while?'

The artist replied before I

'Sorry miss, I never sleep with models
that have accepted a fee.'

'Not even if I pay you?'
..........the wrinkled five dollar bill
..........tucked into shirt pocket
..........was a compelling reason
..........to compromise principals

Then later
..........after teasing leaves
..........out of her hair
She whispered in my ear
..........and drove away

Leaving me
....patting the pocket
....where the wrinkled
....$5.00 bill rested
....missing something too
....and musing on her last words

'You were worth every penny.'