When no one was looking
I touched a Picasso.

I  let my hand run
like water
over the hills
and the caves
the smooth
metallic
surfaces
that
spoke to me
from
across the room

And I imagined at
night
when this sculpture sits
alone.
With no orange light
of a candle
or hum of a tv
a blue screen flickering,

laughter or cigarette smoke

It's locked up and I am free.