My dear Max was a ferryman in a moon-crown
Who would shuttle me down a celestial river
Of liquid magic I'd never seen
He had a Southern accent that spewed genius
And he commandeered my boat, drawling
That I was gonna find out what mischief was
He showed me how to stick my paddle in the sludge
To yank my rudder towards something unknown
And soon we were both on our own brave barques
As much as I love people like me,
Stoic fire signs with pale blue eyes
I'm thrilled by foreign, absurd bravery
Maxwell would yank me by the loving wrist
Past curfew, running from something
Or chasing something like a rare, joyful bird
We're a thousand miles away now and
I look into a candle like a can on a string
Hearing it crackle and sizzle
With a passion I know his flame shares
Prompt: "Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem themed around friendship, with imagery or other ideas taken from a painting by Carrington, and a painting by Varo."
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