poem of the day 09.10.13

at american modern

at an art show

for paintings and drawings

from the 1915 to the 1950s

and they are there, bitching

these two old white broads

with their big mouths, soft, unworked hands

and their idiot opinions

they go everywhere that i go

from the hopper’s

to the o’keefe’s and the charles sheeler’s

they think they’re critics of a sort

think they have a discerning eye for art

because they had subscriptions to life magazine

when they were kids

but you can tell that they don’t know shit

it’s not even their opinions

that are really getting to me

although they don’t help their case

and people are still allowed to maintain

their own opinions in america

…until i become president, that is

it’s their constant presence

if i were more paranoid

i’d think these two were being paid to follow me

around the gallery space

purposefully complaining about every piece of art

that catches my eye

just for the sake of ruining my afternoon

i want to turn to them and say

look, ladies, this is my saturday too

so why not shut the fuck up or else go see a movie?

but i don’t want to sound like a whiney bitch

plus i don’t have it in me to fight anyone today

especially these two loquacious nags

i’d rather just escape them

but it’s no good

at the andrew wyeth’s

at the martin lewis drawings

there they are

oh, now this is ugly, one of them says

i wouldn’t even hang this in my closet

the other one grumbles, looking at her watch

how much longer do we have to suffer this?

i look at my watch and ask myself the same question

about them

then i move on

but it goes no better at the george bellows stuff

and there are also too many people with ipads taking pictures

which the two ancient ladies are fascinated by

oh, i just love technology, one of them says

and the other one pulls out her smart phone on cue

so that they can take pictures next to the art

that they’ve been hating for an hour now

i tell myself that i’m done with museums and galleries

if i want to see pretty pictures i’ll buy a book

so i find my wife and ask her if she’s ready

then we go and get indian food

in a place where we’re the only white people

and that’s nice

so we eat until our bellies are full

our anxious hearts are content

and no one complains about a goddamned thing