Behind us naps the Byzantine and Belle
Époque of the Excelsior Hotel;
before us, Adriatic shallows flood
a Canaletto flat of sand and mud.
Look! I’m a mudder, and my sister shrouds
her Beach-Peach toenails under thunderclouds.
At ten, I hoard attention jealously,
but now her eyebrow arches just for me.
Parades of future accolades, awards,
and lovers rise prefigured by such chords—
but weeks dilute the Lido, the lagoon,
the glare of a Venetian afternoon.
A vacancy of canvas-gray appears:
no pigments have survived the tidal years
besides this relic, out of character,
to whom, therefore, all other tints refer.
| Copyright © 2017 by Eric Meub Eric Meub, architect, lives and practices in Pasadena. He is the adopted brother of the artist, Susan C. Price. They respect, in their different ways, the line. |  |
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