She and he went looking
for a place where God can't hide.
They found a quiet gallery
set upon a hillside.

She took nothing but a picture frame
and with it, houses became
monuments, stone timepieces
stood still
until the wind changed.
But trees became cardboard cutouts,
like a fourth grade
book report.
Curious, they walked
through endless halls
where on each wall
there hung a different name.
(I saw them flirting by
the water fountain)

After a good belly laugh,
she filled her lungs with the after math;
intricate, rain-soaked
veins branched out
toward a sky that went on forever.
By morning, however,
her breath could no longer be seen.
The night between her
and the art collector
had only been a dream.