I’ve been wandering through these hallways too long
Staring at the works of the people they called masters
Paintings labeled as perfection
Every fold of clothing unruffled
Every strand of hair in place
Even in scenes of struggle and death
Moments born not of real life
But of fantasy, imagination, hours of unnatural stillness
Days and weeks spent in meticulous crafting
No freedom, no movement, no life
But you
You
Are art in motion
Bold strokes of a quick charcoal sketch
Flashing lights and hips in motion in a salsa club
The beautiful shapes made by one body on another
And you pull me out of the museum
Away from the frozen images
The false representation of life
Into the wild rush of life itself
And a new kind of art
We are footprints left in wet cement
We are graffiti murals on the side of a building
We are canvas caught in a paint fight
Swirls and splashes and smears of color
Captured amidst laughter and lighthearted joy
Perfect in a completely different way
Perfect
And messy
And real