Art Girls Breaking My Heart
Walking very deliberate to view works of art
steps are steady to balance as they stare
eyes wide open sometimes mouth parting as
if to speak softly of their opinion
on what was just seen. Then on to see the next
a diptych, triptych or a sculpture walking up to, then backing
so slowly eyes held in a trance to be spell-bound.
The large abstractions are the best
Pollock, Franz Klein and Willem de Kooning
can become all too consuming teetering
at their size as the girls get
too close looking up getting a little faint.
Gazing around the room for the hard cold
bench. It is fully taken up by the oldies that have seen it
all before. But, not the art girls this is their first try
they are the virgins to this type of exhibit and exhibitionism.
Rodin drives them wild, white stone, dark patinated bronze
in the realm of his stuff they see themselves
bent back beauties, kneeling down in desire and despair
twisted exquisiteness. Their cheeks turning flush
looking for that bench again. This one holds
the oldies and me. I watch them as a voyeur
The art chicks they break my heart
Their beautifully naive perception
abstracted tilted heads
Victimorium
Idling car I want to sleep
With you lying on the garage floor
Baseball player up at bat
I want to be your bat
Jack hammering the street
I want to be Jack
Oh plastic dry cleaners bag
Please let us kiss in un-breathing lungs
There you are my bank robber
I become the security guard
Pulling out his gun very late
Adding a little spice the stand up man
The joke that nobody laughs at
Gleaming cinematic blade
Covering my glow cuts a flung wrist
An un-swim able man standing in the shallows
Walking to the deep wrapped around my ankles
The bottom end of the grave stone
In three feet of earth letting
The frozen heaves make
the engraved end crooked
