I want to be locked in the art gallery some night,
All alone with the taciturn guy and girl flat landers.
Mix up some pina coladas, some margaritas,
Then toast the whole town in there;
Drinks are on me tonight.
Snuggle up to those mute, timeless pieces,
Make some long needed alterations
To some enigmatic half-smiles.
Tell them the troubles of the current age.
Take my photo posing by each one-
Otherwise no one will ever believe me.
Bend myself into some obscene self-sculpture for an hour
As if placed there by god himself; my own opening show:
A footnote to creations more aberrant styles.
Let that painted and inked canvas seep into my vitals
To replace my drab, monotonous atoms
With something more vibrant, more lasting:
A regal elegance that was left out of me
At time's first unwinding.
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