Dallas, Fine Art, Hopper

Lines, marks on a page across the century I became his lover again. There wharves, buildings, lap of water in black and white. Here, my warmed heart.

Dallas — We’d walked wharves together, played upon rooftops, facades, within intimate windows. Sailed along the coast. All that he was, he laid out before me. All that I wished to be, I listened, enamored. Laz...