Rust Like fresh young steel, I used to reflect the sky's cool blues. But like an aging man, skies turn gray, precipitating change. The chemical reaction of flashy to ashen, luster to dust. Like water eating steel, my smooth skin pitting with soft powdery rust. So be careful when you brush up against me now. I might stain your new pants.
oil, collage on mounted photo, 20" x 28"back
JAMES W JOHNSON