pablo

picasso, at a certain
point in his life
never carried
a purse, or money
when out and about
at the cafes. drinking
and eating all night.
he never had to pay.
instead he would sketch
the horns of a bull
the obscure curve
of a woman's hips,
a breast turned sideways
onto a napkin. then
he'd add a box,
a circle perhaps, or
a line drawn through
it all. he'd hand
it to the garcon and say
with a wry smile,
keep the change.