This precarious perch between old & new.
The perfunctory ten-count for super glue.
This piece was absentee before I hung it.
I thoughtfully choose; I’ve never just flung it.
I meditate & plan for each little thing.
Where does this piece belong? Which spot makes it sing?
All eventualities cross thru my mind.
Even though, there’s only one right place to find.
My brain sweat’s priming all canvasses ahead.
“Just so” wins the day; while other plans lay dead.

