Like An Artist

Two lovers on the bench, hands and fingers entwined. They exchanged soft words, some of which I overheard. (Saturday subways are nicer.) She said his fingers were "like an artist's." Having just completed a quick sketch of a lovely-locked lady, I wasn't sure if I should start in with my pen again, or just savor the imagery of the shiny twining of her curls. And while the image of the lovers' hands would been pleasurable to sketch, I knew I wasn't going to be able to lock into their particular finger forms while they were wrapped up in each other. Their feet however, were content to stay put right where they were. So, decided, I started to sketch the falling of their feet.

But with just a few pentimenti in place, they started to gather themselves for their stop. I quickly got their attention to give them a card, pointed to my barely-there drawing, "Almost," I said.

(And now that I'm writing about this, "Like an Artist, sketched for the very first time...Like an ah-har-har-tist, with your sketchbook, next to mine..." keeps singing in my head.)

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