My art is the way
a blue car has to be given a name,
or the way I hold my arms around
a circle of friends without moving a muscle
or laugh out-loud when my paintbrush ends up
sketching bright purple on somebody’s nose.
That’s how it goes—
the world alive and breathing it in
make it all come out in words, but
so there is room for you and I both to stand in here,
see something different and agree
as we hold hands.