Arnold the Paper Flower Man
Works at one of the shared tables in the café,
Shredding paper towels into delicate strips,
Fluttering, flipping, and swirling the pieces,
His hands move like moths.
(He says this is to impress the eight year olds. I am
enraptured.)
Dipping a finger lightly in water and brushing the frayed
edge,
He molds fantastic flowers that are propped up in to-go
cups.
Tendrils, leaves, petals, stems and stamens bloom.
Arnold is binge-watching Downton Abbey on his laptop
While he makes ART.
He flamboyantly makes flowers out of paper towels,
No matter what anyone else thinks.
This is the very definition of a MAKER SPACE –
I sit down with my coffee and sandwich across from him,
Knowing that HERE needs no permission.
I eat, and watch Arnold work, and feel this poem coming on.
I say, “BRAVO, Arnold!” in loopy letters – it’s what I do.
He’s glancing, guessing probably I write about him,
Knowing full well he’s a spectacle – spectacular –
So we make things, and watch each other make things.
It’s not that we don’t care what anyone else thinks.
We can’t help but care deeply, (playing for a crowd, as we
are),
But we have to do something -
MAKE something -
Be something -
While everyone else thinks what they think.
I think I like making things with Arnold the Paper Flower Man.(Arnold World Drake has written a book about his art, We Dont Fold, We Roll, and has a website, worldpaperflowers.com.)
