$3 a face

I've decided that I'd like a lot more of my poetry available to be read here on my blog, so I'm going to be going through some of my older stuff and posting it periodically. Here's one I wrote about two years ago.

$3 a face

I saw a man
On the streets of San Francisco
With an easel
And a table
And a sign that said: “Portraits: $3 a face”

He sat,
Ready, for three whole dollars,
To poorly recreate, in marks of colored dirt
Any one of a hundred thousand perfect little masterpieces
That God sculpted for
Absolutely
Nothing.

Perhaps,
Like some sort of psychic,
He could read the lines on your face
As a palm reader reads those
On your hand,
And silently explain, with brushes on paper
The truth about yourself
That you knew all along
And didn’t want to admit.

Perhaps, I thought
Those $3 are not for the portrait itself
But for his insight;
You could know, just from those hasty brushstrokes
Whether you were truly happy
Or sad
Or hated
Or loved.

I paused, hands in pockets
In front of him,
Surveying the fluttering faces hung before me,
Sketches of souls on display for all to see;
Some beautiful,
Some not.

His strange, dark eyes found mine;
I smiled, fingering my wallet
And turned,
And walked away.
--


I'd love to hear what you think of this poem. When I first wrote it, my church choir director asked if I would read it for the choir and use it as a springboard for a small devotional. The funny thing is, he had interpreted it to mean the exact opposite of what I'd intended. Which brings up an interesting question, I suppose: should the poet and the reader agree on the meaning of a poem? Personally, I was pleasantly surprised that someone had seen what I'd written from a different angle. It was good for me to have someone point out that things like this are open to interpretation (and/or maybe I should just learn how to write more clearly). Reading it now, this seems a significantly less awesome poem that I'd originally thought...

Anyway, I still read the poem for the choir, albeit so nervously that I was asked to read it twice. I think they liked it. And it worked well for the devotional. So, happy ending. The end.