sam the painter threw the can of colorful
paint into the dark room where he had
installed an large upright blank canvas
bisecting the room & so every so often
he would grab a fresh can of house paint,
pry open the lid & unlocking the weird
door hurl the can's contents into the unlit
room. there was never any light on
in the room & at night she'd creep down
the stairs using a penlight app on her phone
to try the weird door but it was locked &
bolted & wouldn't budge; she had a long
vacation ahead & wanted to spend more time
alone w/ him; they went out almost every night
for drinks & maybe some avant-garde thing
w/ nattering postmodern notes not really
'music' at all although played on traditional
musical instruments; when they got back
to his place the ocean was blue & he'd dim
the lights to burnt yellow; he poured her
a glass of red wine & she sat; not knowing
one another very long she broached the subject:
what are u painting? he looked at her strangely.
what do u mean?
That's ur studio isn't it?
I don't have a studio.
But u throw a different color can of paint
into that dark room, two, three or more times
a day; I assumed u were in there all night;
why would I be in there all night?
completely flummoxed she never mentioned it again