Kissed on the lips by a Libra; I saw it once. The painting was of a knight kneeling at the feet of Christ on the cross. And Christ leaned down and kissed this man. I don’t remember the title but it was Pre-Raphaelite.
The painting cultivated some vivid emotion from deep down but it went away as if I drew my name in the sand at high tide.
How did he do that? — The artist, I mean — The knight was worn, nearly forgotten, bloody-bruised. And Christ kissed him softly. I can’t help but think of the archetypical man, a boy scout in some manner: the knight in front of Christ, the Libra, the ultimate judge; and then the gesture.
I am me 