A Guggenheim Dates an Artist

he came to her apartment in the Spring of April 9

smelling of soap

tasting so potato

she should have had more condiments

he had a few roundabout words about her paintings

—ego, id, and superego, like every other wonder

bread piece of work in that city

she had a few high words about his cosmopolitan airs

—entirely poseur, like every other

two-martini-lunch arriviste in that city

she should have had more condiments

foaming non sequiturs

and looking so red-ripe tomato

he left her apartment circa the Summer of June 3

Minneapolis, 2007. Self-published in Clay Eyes.

By | 2018-04-24T14:20:11+00:00 August 20th, 2007|Poem|