PORTRAIT OF A YOUNG MAN/ BRONZINO/ 1530's
TODAY, nothing will save me
I have to find it, bring it to my heart,
bring it to my soul. Like an armful
of fuchsia peonies, I will make it obvious,
so that I do not miss it.
Imagine calling BEAUTY, "it".
Say "beauty" to me and I have a
I see the Young Man, by Bronzino.
I've got a thing for him.
So I'm going to visit him today.
If I could, I would take the steps up
to the Met two at a time. Breathless
I will be, as I race past the monolithic
glass doors, into the Museum,
thrust my card at the guard,
get my button, pin it to my lapel,
and dash up the center staircase
straight to the Renaissance gallery.
I stop the first guard and whisper,
"Where is he today"? The guard has
seen me before, knows of my need.
"Turn left at the Giotto,
they've moved him".
Within seconds I see him. I stop
and approach slowly. He's not
surprised. After all this has been
going on for five centuries.
We are almost eye to eye.
I smile a sort of teasing Mona Lisa
smile, and greet him.
" Hello, gorgeous".