Tuesday, September 10, 2013

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

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