you were there, by the horse

I forgot you were at that opening at moma with me, there were so many people and we lost each other quickly. I went through the exhibition on my own, only half absorbed, looking around for you out the corner of one eye. I watched those two indy-chic boys whispering excitedly over the artist who was jolly and with his family around him. Then I saw you on the other side of the hallway, half smiling at the boys, quietly charmed by their excitement. But by the time I had crossed the hallway to you, you were gone into the dark and the russian marching music. It was riveting and alarming in that room, so many projections in every direction, noses and horses and measurements distracted me. Then I remembered my purpose and walked quickly to the last room with the horse collage. And there you were, not looking at the horse (though I have a feeling thats what drew you into that room) but at the drawing of a bird and a cage from the flute series. You asked me why he had drawn it on small pieces of paper, then pinned them to the wall in a grid to form a big image? I had no answer then, just a shrug and a smile. I'll ask him later, when no ones around and get back to you, when we see each other again.