Somewhere in the next block
someone may be practicing the flute
but not here
where the entrances
to four stores are dark
the awnings rolled in
nothing open for business
Across the second story
ten faceless windows
In the foreground
a barber pole, a fire hydrant
as if there could ever again
be hair to cut
fire to burn
And far off, still low
in the imagined East
the sun that is again
right on time
adding to the Chinese red
of the building
despite which color
I do not believe
the day
is going to be hot
It was I think
on just such a day
it is on just such a morning
that every Edward Hopper
finishes, puts down his brush
as if to say
As important
as what is
happening
is what is not.
John Stone
Oil on canvas.