the open sea

tired of the painting
of the open sea
on your wall
you take it down, remove
the nail.
fill it
and move on.
you carry the painting
down
to the basement,
to the laundry room
where you hang
it over
the washer and dryer,
it's where
all the old paintings
go.
in the room
with laundry, bins
of papers,
of photographs,
of things you don't want
to see anymore.
you remember the day you
bought it,
how wonderful it was.
the colors, the white sails
of the distant
ships,
the roll of waves.
not summer, but after.