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| Autumn Rose 100 x 70 cm - acrylic on paper |
LIPS
I’m trying
to teach her the Genitive.
Words form
slowly between the
suspiciously
puffy lips of this powerful
woman ruffling
her cape. Her red cape.
There is an
intimation of super powers.
I’m trying
to teach her the Dative.
Her lips
are absurdly bountiful.
Bountiful
as America. American lips.
They are
real, hyperreal, surreal. She says.
I tend to
believe her. Maybe she
grew up
near a nuclear power station.
Or a toxic
waste processing plant located behind leaky walls.
Aesthetically
mutated by gradual disaster?
I’m trying,
I swear, to teach her.
She only
learns what she wants to learn.
They’re all
coming of
age now, a pessimistic optimism
bubbling up
and down a scale I can’t keep up with, still dressed
in flip
flops and leggings and Ray-Bans even though
more than a
few are turning forty next month, slurping
coffee, checking
their
phones, indestructible, I mean
partially impermeable.
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