Gold In Gold Poem by Jean Bernard Parr

It was the sunflower picture I took in
Three fat suns in a green vase, a big gold frame then
that's settled, paid up front, and walking back
clock the following
privet
dog,
angry mask behind glass at the crossing
stare back in slow motion, best dysfunctional android
in pocket, toss the crippling carbuncle of car keys
like a little metal salad
is this frame I chose too big? Too much gold
there is gold in gold and its gone
too far. Modest everything in modesty dust like Pompeii
should have chosen something
more reserved. Gold is for pharaohs and the like
the sunflowers wont hang in my house
these patrician blooms have made a servant of me
I stride condemned to search pavement squares for clues
more vexation is to come
now
elevating gaze to thin pencil grazing
then entering cloud like a confident lover
Ive made up my mind, too big for the likes of me; this painting
will be given out of spite to someone rich, someone with gold
at the wrist,
Im going to have to find someone who gold doesn't blind