Soft lights, white walls, quick shallow words
on depth and composition,
the wall paint smell of an art exhibition
A young blonde lady stops
at something ‘bit unusual
a somewhat edgier, brighter-coloured Bruegel
and she
looks beyond the silly shapes
she feels she can relate, says to
the artist standing by, “Why do you paint this way?”

“My shapes are meant to hide
What I don’t want you to see
Art masks my mediocrity”

He went, “The spoiled child I was
was said to be quite smart,
a doctor, scientist, not a son of Art
but as I started school, I first
got looked upon by girls,
and I found out the beta male I was,
I’m lucky
I picked up a brush before
a needle or a joint,
so I could paint my blues away, and that’s the point

My shapes were meant to hide
What I didn’t want to see
Art masked my mediocrity

“What d’you think this represents?”
He pointed, she replied
“An endless struggle searching for the light?”
“It is one way to put it,
but the title may well say:
‘Frustration after forty failed dates’
You’ll never
fool a woman into thinking
you’re a caring man,
it’s far easier to try and make of her your fan

My shapes are meant to hide
What I don’t want you to see
Art masks my mediocrity”

“If you art has no other reason,
Can’t you just do other stuff?”
“I could but, frankly, I can’t get enough.
The brush’s my needle and my joint
and in the time I could
have become a doc or prof I just got hooked
I’d die for
a fryup for two
and a shopping afternoon
a job of social use
and most of all I’d die for you,
but I’ve replaced desire with yellow,
love with red and peace with blue,
how can I quit the frame of mind that gets me through”

At that, she had to go
and barely said goodbye
“Oh well, there goes another one...” he sighed