Juxtaposing

I hunted down this print
I'd seen in an art show long ago.
At the time I couldn't justify
the dough
but soon after I regretted it.
Years later I found it again
and the photographer
as a bonus.
For a short time
we created together
though these collaborations
tend to ebb.
Then I was left
with a 20 x 30
and the memory of her taste
250 shy of my next antique rifle.

My allure made sense
after our fling had flung.
A visiting uncle recognized
the setting:
a mental institution, now closed
where three of my family members
had worked in the 70s.
Its source was awkwardly confirmed
on a night of too much Pinot.
With absence comes appreciation.
Redemption's far more rare.

For a year it fought
the good fight
on my living room's best wall.
The shadow boxes
and display cases
containing local war relics
closed in like rabid Huns.
Eventually it stood out
too much for wayward guests.
I took it down;
replaced it with another
frame of dust.

Last week I walked the line
from my kitchen to my bedroom
staring at the brick
that faced me from the wall.
Twenty feet of focus
through a doorframe
sparked a thought.
I hung the photo in that spot
with two nails and a level.
It helps to have a goal in mind
even if it changes.