He once shared a galvanizing poem about Tequila with me over chips and salsa. We brought, and finished a bottle that day...and that's just it! He does the kind of art that moves you from where you are to some place significantly better.
Completely inspired, I wrote a poem - an homage to my Art guy, Shawn.
6:30 Alarm Clock
I met the Mahogany Goddess ceremonially circling the frozen beast locked at the bottom of an ordinate glass castle. She was and she wasn't. Dreamy with unfettered glamour - a sight to behold. Mythical, she hailed from a far away land that felt desperately familiar. She spoke, but only with her eyes, in a deep, absorbing kind of way. Everything about her was accentuated and I was intimately intoxicated and infatuated by her. The object of her affection royally adorned her head during dinner, where we started with rye bread that marsupially carried the aroma of ripe fallen apples. The rich toasted grain was warming. Welcoming. The experience fused into a sophisticated blend of dried fruits and honey hanging in harmonious balance with a spice that stole my taste and my breath. As it returned, the flavors exploded in my mouth. Fiercely. Briefly, like the head of a match. The visable and invisible suduction continued with a creamy vanilla cake created to parse out the very best flavors in raisins, brown sugar, and caramel. I was spellbound. This was the sweetness that satisfied my craving. But I wanted more. Of her. So I took as much as she would give. The crest of her smile ended at the bottom of my jaw. Our embrace prolonged until her affable caress, slow and dramatic as the sunset, converted into a sobering slap.
It wasn't a good morning.