Let me be the canvas, then,
and you be Jackson Pollock—
be the wild one, the one
who burns, the one who
never sleeps and never yawns,
the one who steals the sun
and gives it to me.
Be the one who transforms me
again and again with colors,
ardent and avid and mad—
no, let me be the canvas,
and let life be the painter,
and you, you be the paint.