Arcade Art

Button after button
undone. Michelangelo’s

knees, soaked on
the dollar-booth floor

as another trick comes
to pay his respect

to his genius. Coarse
hair and spit play drama

on a sliding skin Fresco–
the hand of God touching

man. Mike can’t remember
when her first learned his latin

(fellatio) or when he decided
to save creation for last. On his

back and scaffolded, bent
over and raffled by the crowd

for his art, sweaty dollar
one by one. Each time time’s

up, all goes dark. He
shuts his eyes and re-creates

perspective; his arms, long
enough to reach around

his masterpiece, scrapping
his wedding ring against

the crust of plexiglass, reaching
another dollar into the slot. And

let there be light or anything
beyond the musk of the dark.