My Friend Misha
when I saw Misha lurking in the shadows of our club's studio
cold-staring at his figures,
(he's working on both simultaneously from the same model)
as he queries the Almighty:
"What needs to be fixed? "
Misha labors under the same burden as myself,
being the son of a more talented (but still obscure) father-artist
And, like myself, he is a mass of contradictions:
He's not religious -- but he's a member of two temples.
He fled USSR 25 years ago - but he thinks "Buuuush" is even worse.
He's an obsessive artist,
but seems to be even more obsessive about fixing old beaters
or programming his computer.
He's a humbug
through and through
("what is humbug?" I can hear him ask in his thick Russian/Hebrew accent)
and with my dancing Nordic eyes,
I'll just smile back at him.
"We're all humbugs",
he will finally conclude,
and I will have to nod in agreement.