Sold for fourty dollars!
her impressionist painting
of trellised, willow wisteria.
Sold on the first frost, fall day,
for fourty dollars, surreal
springs blossums of violet-blue,
violet-blue heaven.
I jump out of my chair,
"Oh my gosh, Suzanne!
Oh my gosh, congratulations!"
"I am full fledged" she says,
"my first sold painting. 
I am an artist." 

I forget who I am.
She smiles through the phone.
We've discussed her painting before,
bipolar born out of a five months
hospitalization.

"I wanted $100, but let it go
for fourty." she muses.
"Well, you can sell the next
painting for $100!" I see
the money in her hand,
hear, sold for $100!
sense abundance there all along.
"Are you working next Tuesday?"
she asks.
"You bet I am." I sit back in my chair,
realizing I was standing, applauding,
suddenly remembering who I am.