All my friends are artists
Hey, I just wrote a poem in the shower. It goes like this:
All my Friends are Artists
Stacie is a fantastic painter. Seeb says he’s making paintings but they’re not really paintings. Digital light boxes that are sure to sell well. Jeff makes sculptures from trash he pulls out of a big black trash bag. Adam is harvesting corn in his painting. Melissa is taking pictures of her baby. This baby is beautiful, take my word for it! Paul and Travis are poets, though, that is not all they are. Travis is a novelist and a husband and a watcher of blog comments. Paul is a lawyer. The good kind. The best kind. Pat and Ivete worry about making money from their work. I hope they make money. Cori and Dottie are poets. They are so pretty and wise! At Sunday brunch Dottie said, “you want to know what ultimate freedom is? Death!” I was once in love with a poet. He loved me too. Now he loves another poet. Her name is also the name of a flower. Oh well. Very recently I dated a man who, starting with a sideways heart, draws the cartoon lips of black men.
