My dearest Chica Artista

Sketch me a little ditty,
my dear demoiselle d’art,
a fun little tune to while away
whilst waiting for you

Fresco me arias, operettas,
prima donnas with swelt breasts,
flushed faces straining to send
song that cannot be sound

Let your brushstrokes carry me
as the staff carries notes,
brushy staccato thunderclaps
ala hits of the orchestra brass
doping me up for the smooth,
linear neoclassicist, dances
promenading in stately elegance
meets glazed, syrup-flowing grace
so thick you can stick a fork in it,
and then I'm done, down before you

Strum me Warhol and Liechtenstein
on that rhythm guitar in the corner
6-strings standing in for the 60s

Lay me down, with smooth jazz,
silky, sexy dancing notes in the air
as Lawrence's figures find that sweet spot
of joy in sorrow, blues-ecstatic where art
and sense meet in minds for
consummate matches of dancing skill,
whirling away on the sinuous breeze out,
out into that sweet, smoky haze
The nights of the Jazz Age reborn
with sfumato neon lights ablaze

Picture me this, capture in your lights
the electric sex of the Funky sound
in this here town as I show such sights
as leaves hair standing up on end;
adding shivers, quivers into the
metronome breathing in your chest

Let me steady your trembling sketch
as Rock falls, falls, falls
into decadence untold, untellable
and its children burst forth
from that half-live corpse
crying out in discordant harmony of purpose
"Life, life, give me life!"

Model Me Mozart in Marble, in Mist.