| ||||
| And Martin Baer dead these many years Where is the painting he made of you with the little girl face? "I know I don't look like that any more," you said sadly If I remember, there was lots of blue in that painting- for the virgin Martin saw in you? Tiny Nata, everyone towering over you "She's mad," said Josephine Carson, "absolutely mad" but she loved you and may be welcoming you now "Martin Baer - everyone's least favorite painter," said Jo, "even if he did look like Jean Cocteau" I heard him praised by his friend Robert Duncan  | Measured phrases that brought him vividly to life What a wonderful picture you took of Duncan in his prime! And how sad you were when you thought he had forgotten you: "You can't expect everyone to love you always" But we all expect that, Nata you no less than anyone else we all expect love and moan about sorrow but you were quiet about your bad luck when you had it or at least you were to me I see you seated at that table (the one in the photo with the rose) serving me tea and I suddenly realize: That's the table in the picture  | |||
