walls so soft

9:00 am every Saturday
all of us gather at the studio
heedless of sunny California outside

broad shouldered and handsome
he walks through the door

and while the rest of us make teapots with floral designs:

he
makes
ART!

what a talent!
the potters whispered
what magnificent arms!
the old women cooed –
daydreaming of lovers decades past
as their once pink and plastic nails push into the plastic clay
tearing through soft walls

he would be more interested
in leering at their feeble doily designs
as he carved mountains
out of feldspar and sediment
magnificent treetops grow from his arms
those unexpected arms
to which were attached hands you knew would get
to work! as soon as he rolls up his sleeves
spectators crowded around to watch those triceps twitch
effortlessly

his art is subtle
he creeps like elk

across the wedging board
he smiles at me