Oh, if I could be frozen like the girl in that Renoir.
To live inside a moment: a sky that won't grow dark
not until the painting disintegrates.
The circular motion of an endless day
makes the centerpiece to that landscape
only count the days until the fair.

Six months flew by the same as they came.
We fall into our routines.
The eyes of strange men penetrate your frame:
You know you won't grow old like us.

Remember how you lived my life? And I lived as you?
Sycophants to Edison;
we were the mariner's tattoos.
As impressionists we took our time to make the sunlight glow.
But how quickly the sun did set
when no one even noticed it was there.

Six months flew by the same as they came.
We fell into our routines.
The eyes of strange men penetrate your frame:
you know you won't grow old.