Painting the Sage
I'm sitting outside somewhere at a white metal table.
The table is round and looks like thick, solidified lace.
2 chairs (other than mine) are at the table,
and there is a palette of paints and a small paintbrush.
The paints are brilliantly vivid, and very thick.
2 men accompanied by a small white dog walk past.
One man has a huge cork plug through his nose,
(the cork is about the size of a ping pong ball)
and a golden ring; thick as my finger,
running around the front of his face
and through his eyes
(which are white and glowing).
He has beautifully defined lips and a bald, highly polished head.
His friend has long silver dreadlocks,
multicoloured harlequin pants that keep changing colour,
and is holding a drum.
The drum is heavily beaded, covered in brown skin,
and hanging from a leather strap slung over the mans shoulder.
The first man asks me if they can sit with me and I nod.
He produces a satchel and takes from it a number of candles.
The candles are different shades of blue and black,
with the Vancouver skyline depicted along the base.
I pick one up and notice that the picture moves -
The lights blink on and off, the trees sway slightly,
tiny headlights move across the bridge, etc.
It has a sticker on it that says $6, so I pay for it,
then offer to paint the mans hands.
[I'm carefully painting them, then the people upstairs stomp across the ceiling and wake me up. I really want to know what I would have painted.]