A Study In Rodin
A Study in Rodin
She strolled with grace—a goddess in a fur—
holding a handbag and a champagne flute.
My Ego elbowed Id, said, “Look at her! ”
so I proceeded, in my warm-up suit,
to turn my sneakers on the slick parquet
and sidle up to the Rodin display.
The Thinker brooded there, a studied pose
Of Man’s reflective mood (without his clothes) .
She stood, absorbed in art, admiring him,
his bundled muscles bronzed and set in state.
I touched my baseball cap, then tipped the brim,
flashed a grin, and asked, “Could this be fate? ”
The sleek Parisian smirked and, with a scoff,
she shook her head, mouthed “Non”, and sashayed off.
I watched her, slumped to sit, and cocked my wrist,
and pondered the rejection, chin to fist.