Should've asked her name

Adjacent to a bus stop
on the outside ledge of a brownstone window
several figurines are on display
sculptured in stones of crystallized minerals
villages and faces of elders, and animals of pasture
there traced since the time of seepage
before the artist found the stones
and put hand in relief

I ask a young lady by the exhibit,
( who I suppose to be the artist)
where the sculptures come from
"The Kalahari," she replies,
Without thinking I respond, "Oh, Chile"
No, no, not Chile. The Kalahari is in Africa
The Atacama Desert is in Chile, the driest place on earth.

Several small size paintings are also on exhibit
Never have I seen oils so vibrant, fluid and exquisitely crafted
one in particular, of a church portico, I'd spend a life to simulate
The artist's business card is also on display,
an address I shall not forget
which I may carry to the grave
in last famous words and grunts

56 East 10th
What's so special about this address?
Nothing, really. I just have a thing about numbers
Maybe in my last life I was a tax collector
or at that address, an altar boy