Does Heaven Have Walls Poem by Alexandre Nodopaka

Layback weekend here!
I'll go later skinny-dipping but first
around noon, I'll walk to an Estate Sale
around the corner from my house.

By then the prices should be half & since
I mostly buy art hardly anybody wants
there's a good chance for me to find something
not only unique but worth writing about.

Like three impasto vertical brush strokes.
A white swatch flanked by two blacks
on a shimmering rust background.
Or a portrait in mustard hues slit in the middle

with its two halves slipped. Dislodged.
Like with one eye adjacent to carmine lips.
There's something about the art of the 70's
that feeds on lateral physical translation.

And if I find nothing, which I doubt I won't,
I'll take it for granted that I saved some dough.
That's how I waste my dwindling allowance.
I hope Heaven is a labyrinth of walls.