Art and the philosophy of life

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Madame Margo…

the hotel was calm and cozy
as was the shop next door
both run by the beautiful Madame Margo
who smoked non filtered cigarettes
stuffed into a long black lacquered holder
that she received from a handsome Chinese artist
she met when she was traveling through Asia
looking for the perfect folded fan
to match a silk red dress that hung in her closet
just waiting for the right accessories
he painted her from head to toe
in a thirty-six hour passion fueled non-stop frenzy
after which a moving and desperate embrace
on his part
destroyed his design and left him weeping
as she thanked him and went on he way
Madame Margo was a chanteuse
of sorts
who often sang for her supper
and five-star accommodations
while she could have easily afforded  anything she liked
she enjoyed being one of the working class
and often sat drinking throughout the night
with those wearing dusty clothing
their hands calloused and worn from years of toil
she moved easily from one place to another
fitting in wherever she decided to stay
her lovers were legion
but she always left them wanting more
in spite of their gifts of diamonds and rubies
she was an independent wild woman
and intended to stay that way until the day she died
hopefully nestled in a bed with pale pink satin sheets
and a matching comforter
her three cats, Minnou, Mia and Missu
were adored and well cared for
she often took them on her journey’s
renting an entire railway car
so they would have room to play and frolic
as Madame aged
she lost none of her beauty
or charm
and some women
lined up outside her rooms
or hotel
begging for an audience
sending tokens of appreciation
but some evenings she preferred
to listen to music and dance with her cats
eyes closed
thinking fondly of the men in her life
as well as her travels
I am satisfied
she said to those who asked what she thought of her life
and she was
so were those who had the good fortune to fly close to her red hot flame

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