Dear Salvador

What a peculiar artist—such vivid
imagination. Surreal images
and colors ignite uninhibited
display of vision. Fired synapses burst,

rattling memories loose in that mind
atop scraggily mustache and thin tips
Did that desert heat melt your memories?
Unbind life’s heavy rigging, sails and mast?

Would baby Hannah like all your spindly
legged animals, or would she cower?
No, she’d like their whimsy—identify
with you through her own disparate nature.

She’d bask in graceful oddity of strokes,
and declare, “Hey Dali, I like your style!”

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