his red beret

with a yellow sun and a brilliant green sky,
this small village
on the Mediterranean coast of France
has blue boats and streaks of hot sand

fish in wet nets at dawn on a busy beach

deep-vermillion color of the harbor's water

light which is more than light.

the tall man wearing his red beret
carries two easels,
one with tiny points of paint placed artfully

across a stretched canvas.

a wife sits in a rented room

old cobbled streets

a steep hill to climb,
and a narrow view from an open window.

Collioure,
summer of 1905:

warm!

and it rained in July.

Vlaminck held the letters which he read
over and over:
the wild beasts had escaped!
one certain mustache,
unshaven,
pipe in mouth.

another with glasses the better to see invisibility.

unnatural minds,
looking without success for dark shadows
while finding even more shifting light,
intensely,
vividly,

pointing to open space on a splendid line,

while the evening fish were eaten whole.