Found Out
Posted: September 25th, 2010, 8:52 pm
Found Out
His eyes reveal decades of wisdom,
a gumbo of knowledge,
a paella of experience.
His throaty voice clear and sweet,
like his smile.
A sharpness of wit and humor,
he tells me he's defied death
at least 3 times in his 92.5 years.
He envelopes me in tales
of Old New York City,
of fur cutting and his stolen 18th century clock collection,
trips to Spain and Havana cigars,
of being on his death-bed and fighting to live at 50,
poetry written in countless countries,
of broken hearts and love finally found.
Now, sitting here in the middle of his first solo show.
He 92 and a half, and I 28-
I feel as though he and I, we are ageless
and timeless.
His art all around me,
reminiscent of industrial secrets of the 1950's,
minutiae of toys and fragments over the course of 60 years.
Wooden frames of stories waiting to be told.
Metallic remnants held together
by memories and tears.
His quick mind recalling events
that occured 3 times my age, with a keen
sense of where and how.
He says he's considering dyeing
his full white beard black
to look a few years younger
and his mustache twiches
with the promise of a heart-warming chuckle.
He tells me he knows I will find love
because he's lived long enough to know
love comes when you least expect it.
I told him I'm not looking for love,
nor am I waiting for it, after what I've been through.
He waved my words away,
not dismissively but sagely.
("A sweet young girl like you, with such beautiful bone structure,
such high cheek bones.
You'll find find the right one. If I were only 65 years younger...)
Fate and luck, they play a huge part in life, he says.
I promise to visit him at his Chelsea home.
He makes me promise him
to bring my poetry as he wishes to study my writing.
He hopes to exchange ideas
and create new thoughts.
I study him, taking in every astute inch
and know I am privledged to have met him.
A wealth of stories and anecdotes,
of lessons learned and soon to be learned-
he lives for his art
and his art lives because of him.
He gives love.
He is love.
This
is what keeps Abe alive.
LT
9/25/10
His eyes reveal decades of wisdom,
a gumbo of knowledge,
a paella of experience.
His throaty voice clear and sweet,
like his smile.
A sharpness of wit and humor,
he tells me he's defied death
at least 3 times in his 92.5 years.
He envelopes me in tales
of Old New York City,
of fur cutting and his stolen 18th century clock collection,
trips to Spain and Havana cigars,
of being on his death-bed and fighting to live at 50,
poetry written in countless countries,
of broken hearts and love finally found.
Now, sitting here in the middle of his first solo show.
He 92 and a half, and I 28-
I feel as though he and I, we are ageless
and timeless.
His art all around me,
reminiscent of industrial secrets of the 1950's,
minutiae of toys and fragments over the course of 60 years.
Wooden frames of stories waiting to be told.
Metallic remnants held together
by memories and tears.
His quick mind recalling events
that occured 3 times my age, with a keen
sense of where and how.
He says he's considering dyeing
his full white beard black
to look a few years younger
and his mustache twiches
with the promise of a heart-warming chuckle.
He tells me he knows I will find love
because he's lived long enough to know
love comes when you least expect it.
I told him I'm not looking for love,
nor am I waiting for it, after what I've been through.
He waved my words away,
not dismissively but sagely.
("A sweet young girl like you, with such beautiful bone structure,
such high cheek bones.
You'll find find the right one. If I were only 65 years younger...)
Fate and luck, they play a huge part in life, he says.
I promise to visit him at his Chelsea home.
He makes me promise him
to bring my poetry as he wishes to study my writing.
He hopes to exchange ideas
and create new thoughts.
I study him, taking in every astute inch
and know I am privledged to have met him.
A wealth of stories and anecdotes,
of lessons learned and soon to be learned-
he lives for his art
and his art lives because of him.
He gives love.
He is love.
This
is what keeps Abe alive.
LT
9/25/10
