Bob Ross Paints His Eden

happy little trees surround

nakedness, so Bob draws

knowledge with colors that spread through the garden

an orange fire of knowing, until the people start wearing

clothes. hats grace the heads of everyone, lined like store

mannequins in dress shop windows. purple veils, pink brims,

the garden turns into shopping

malls and sky scrapers, brush

strokes turn violet fields into a gravel road painted just so

which lends itself to country drives. skinny jeans painted blue-

black, hide tired saggy bodies

until no one looks like anyone else.

the summers are drenched with colors of broken

leaves, until chips of paint flecks the canvas and the imperfections are revealed,

the fruit taken, the body discovered, the truth

like flies buzz around the heads of the many, while Bob explains god the way he paints,

how anyone can do what he does,

maybe even better.