the right chair is more important than you might guess–
angles between brush and canvas and arm and chair
creating as many dimensions as string theory theorizes

the magic can only happen with the right chair

Ronald, the street painter, did not know this;
at least, it never crossed his mind
he simply found an old chair in a shop on the Rue de Turenne
and decided it was comfortable

Passersby, of course, were mesmerized by his canvases,
by the gentle flick of his wrist, by the way his gaze 
drew their eye to the invisible line he traced on the canvas

Morons and foreigners would try to interrupt Ronald,
to seek a cheap caricature from the small man
they did not recognize as a master.

Ronald paid no attention–
his left hand held the brush, his right the palette
and before him stretched the Seine in its glory
passersby walking on the streets above the river, unaware
of the undulating rhythm of the water
finding its way into the motion of his arm

when the street painter sat on his chair
he disappeared into his landscapes–
revealing, on the canvas, a universe
not unlike our own, yet
all the more beautiful