Still Life with Fishing Net

blue eyes
standing like a ram's head
while all the pretty young ladies
thought he might be dead
by the end of the following day.
sure, his guitar looked old but it continued to play,
and with a new mandolin
and a fresh fruit dish,
his first idea
was to get his latest birthday wish:
an allegorical magic like a common law wife
changing completely the course of his busy life,
and a candle dripping wax onto his naked arm
reminded him that age has a certain passing charm.
in the soft sand he found an empty fishing net
and since the surf was about to make it wet
he decided to keep it for himself,
secretly placing it on a hard-to-reach black shelf
where for more than sixty years it was out of sight.
one day he decided to paint the shelf white
and instead of a net, he found a solitary fig,
a glass tumbler and the head of a promiscuous pig.
he searched for an answer but didn't know,
knocking down a few walls in his studio
to get a better view of the neighborhood bars:
newer girls smiled from their passing cars.
he saw all he needed to make a choice:
a woman approached with a gravelly voice.
blue eyes
asked her to sing him a song
and she agreed but only if he'd sing along.
for twenty years they rambled and roared
over piles of books and never grew bored.